


Temple Gate

by NebulaViburnum



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Death, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, Lesbian Sex, Love, Multi, Origin Story, Pansexual, Sex, Survival, pansexual Marta, pansexual Val
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 13:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10945425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NebulaViburnum/pseuds/NebulaViburnum
Summary: A short story that talks about Marta growing up in Temple Gate. Prominent people in her life who either go missing or killed. Her father's eventual enmity with Knoth. Her mother's affair. The birth of Val and their rise as the chief deacon. Marta's complicated  relationship with her friend Helen, which becomes romantic. Her relationship with Asher and their eventual separation. Her complicated relationship with Val. Her dedication and also friendship with Knoth which pains her father. Growing up in Temple Gate was never easy. [can be taken as a companion to my other story "Saudade" and loosely connected to "Shadow Engines"]





	1. Chapter 1

 

**In The Book of Life of The Lamb Slain**

 

 

“Helen has been complaining again.”

 

“Why should she have cause for complaint?”

 

“She says, there is no television here. Also, she wishes she could hear more cartoon shows and nature documentaries on the radio.”

 

“Our Blessed Lord brought us here to live a pure life. Still, we have liked the television. However, it does not work properly here. The equipment is fine. The channels all become a strange static sooner or later. We believe this to be the will of our Lord. As for radio shows, we must not possess ourselves to the same temptations of sloth. Idleness, my dear, is a great source of sin and also excess. Helen should accept that the radio shows have their time and that she should be steadfast in prayer.”

 

“I think I understand why she feels she should watch more shows. I think she is bored of only reading Sunday School books and praying. She likes working in the fields though. She would like to grow flowers and flower beds with her parents and I feel perhaps she feels all of them could use the shows as educational tools.”

 

“Nature shows are filled with blasphemy too my dear. Don’t forget that. You shouldn’t humour that Helen. She was given a suggestive name. Don’t forget that Troy’s Helen was a whore. For her, millions died. Helen should be practice her pious duties more. She should be cooking and cleaning. She should help her mama birth the children and she should pray and grow crops. Flowers can come. But later.”

 

“I don’t think Helen is used to much manual labour being more of a city girl than me. But, she has taken to it well. I think she is just bored that’s all. Since, she being from the city and all.”

 

“Child, are you bored?”

 

“No. Of course, not. Not really.”  
  
“You hesitate.”

 

“I don’t…I just, wonder if we will do fine here that’s all. I was mostly in a farm before. Now, I am here. I don’t know. I wonder what Papa and Mama think. They know Mister Knoth. I like him. He is kind and all. I don’t just know. We are all out here. So far away.” Marta wanted to look at the sky. Eight years old, well spoken, scared. She had lived in a farm for five years than two years in a ranch. Now, they moved to, what her father said was a desert. It seemed their father did not like the move. Found it problematic and dangerous. But, she felt it wrong to say this about her father. Truthfully, she was scared. They left from the ranch because the police found them. Knoth has said that the corrupted had owned the land of the United States and they would not be able to believe and breed in peacefully there.

 

Though, their religion said there was no peace only grace. Grace could be gotten from penance. And the eventual sacrifices done through hardships like toiling the land and hoping that The Testament of New Ezekiel flourished in this secluded paradise away from the outside world. Their sacrifices and suffering had to be done gracefully. God loved them and so God brought them here. Knoth said, as a prophet of God, that their sufferings and sacrifices were needed and eventually they may need to take their own lives or the lives of others in righteous deeds. As a child, Marta didn’t know about how that made her feel. Killing others or killing themselves, she found it scary. Though he had learned from a young age that death was a natural part of life but aside seeing animals getting killed for food and also animals killing other animals for food she had never thought any form of death to be natural; even when she saw plants die or tearing off fruit or vegetables from the ground, she thought that there was a naturalness to everything. So, she accepted that. So, she did not understand why they needed to kill others, or kill themselves? God doesn’t seem hungry for them. Who would they feed the dead to? That was the question this child thought.  

 

“Marta, hesitation is not godly servitude. Nor, is the constant fixation on radio shows. You should not support Helen. Her name is already that of a wanton name. She will have to take penance nor else she will become a heathen soon. A nonbeliever amongst us is like the plague of locusts on Egypt. Do you not see? We are visiting with signs of the end of days drawing close. There are locusts here, more so than they were outside. Swarms not meant to exist in such ways around here. We are in a desert. Those are satanic ministrations my dear child. Do not listen to Helen. We will be fine. We will till the land, we will father and mother children, we will not want of clothes or excess foods or luxuries. This asceticism is a form of penance. We join ourselves to the land and we in turn favour it by making an immaculate paradise in God’s image.”

 

“Helen tells me we should just mosquito repellent on the locusts if we feel they are too much. She said her father was an antapolgist and doctor. So, she thinks it may draw her away.” Marta says this innocently. Truth be told her father had suggested the same thing. She remembered him pretty unhappy that they were not always allowed to use repellents because there was so less of them and also, they were scared of running out. This made her mother mad. Marta realised from a young age that her mother and father didn’t always get along. They had some heated quarrels. His father never hit her mother rather it was her mother who sometimes hit her father. She knew her father was a man who was lacking a job. There were some problems in the school he had worked in and they had to close. For a time, he was desperate, and Knoth told him of how Knoth viewed God and with some renewed Christianity. They heard the radio as well and said that Knoth spoke the truth, that Knoth could hear a voice in them and they sometimes felt it as well. Her father was excited as first. A new frontier he had spoken and Marta had taken it well. She was a quiet sort of girl when growing up on the farm. Her mother had been a city woman. Her father had stated it was more of a marriage of convenience; though, her father was a bit older than her mother. Her father looked better in some ways. Always dressed or well clean. Marta’s mother looked a bit untidier. Though she wore pretty dresses and actually put on more makeup than she need to. She wore a bit of red or sweet pink. Her father had also stated that Marta’s mother was into partying and had not stayed at school for long. Nor, was she interested much in learning and studying. She was said to have been once caught with a boy, just kissing, but her own parents were strict so they got her married with an older but more respectable teacher. Her mother did not hate her father. Neither did he hate her. But, they seem to be incompatible. Marta’s mother took the marriage as boring. She wanted to go to parties or go out. Marta did see her father try at first but then he got quiet and didn’t know what to do.

 

It seemed strange when Marta’s mother got interested in also The Testament of New Ezekiel. It was not really completely in both their natures. Though some women in the group had started wearing veils on their heads, that made them look actually pretty nice and also in wasn’t completely out of cultural and women did wear scarfs as a form of fashion, her mother did not. She wore however her hair in a braid or bun and it looked pretty normal. She also still wore pretty dresses and no one seemed to say anything. The colour of her dresses was still crisp and vibrant. People appreciated her. Many a times men. Some men and women did resent her. While other women did seem to like her and tried to make colourful dresses. Unbeknownst to Marta, Knoth had asked her father, Vincent, if he still had relations with Marta’s mother, Rosemary. Vincent had to say “no” with a blush. It had been a long time and Vincent was beginning to become use to a celibate’s lifestyle. Though he could not deny that he found Rosemary attractive and beautiful. Marta also remembered her mother saying that her father was pretty handsome and attractive as well. Knoth seemed a bit happy in their lack of relations. Sullivan Knoth was a bit scrawny and did not look as conventionally appealing to the eye as Marta’s parents did. Perhaps, that is young Marta was taken with Sullivan Knoth.

 

Marta, felt she was not conventionally pretty like her mother. She had inherited a lot of Rosemary’s features, in that she had a sharp jawline and nose, nice lashes, her mother’s black hair and also her mother’s pretty white, ivory-alabaster skin that could either be cloaked at night or perhaps emanated amongst those night clouds. Aside that, she had no inherited much. She had the longer face of her father’s and his light blue eyes that looked a piece of cloud kissed the day summer sky and dropped on a cotton ball eye. She had his wider frame and longer limbs. She was already pretty tall and strong for an eight-year-old. She also had her father’s longer, wider nose and fuller lips. Her mother’s lips were thinner and she was more “buxom” in the sense she had wide hips and a petite frame. Rosemary had copper eyes and they shone so peacefully near camp fires like they were amber or coals and Marta’s look a bit dissonant amongst the fire of the heath. Also, her mother did tan at times so she had a golden hue added to her alabaster that matched her father’s slight golden hued skin tone too. Vincent had copper-red hair and blue eyes. He was beautiful. People would notice that he was a bit taller than Knoth too. It could be said that the first non-ordained “heretic” were some of these people like Vincent. Who, when the town was first built, and the early days, would turn sceptically not only to Knoth but the voices they ultimately heard.

 

“Will you not admit that you are being petulant child?” The rough voice of Chief Deacon Albert made her tremble. She noticed he could become soft and pretty mean quite quickly. She really did not like coming to confession. But, it was still a mandatory practice in The Testament of New Ezekiel.

 

“Of course, not Father Albert.” She said this with some hesitation.

 

“Marta, I urge you again to hear me, anthropologist or not, Helen comes from a pretty odd household in that her father was one of those old-world doctors. They are completely of the atheist sort. They believe in their man-made ideas child. These creatures are not insects to be killed by the repellent. They are signs of an apocalypse that we must prepare for. Marta. Do not trust Helen. She bears a whore’s name. And could be very much living up to it. Do you see that you must take her talk with some restraint. Nor else, she would be pretty much drawing hoops around you and telling you to jump. Stay vigilant. Make vigils. Pray. Do not think of such things. Your mind must be on other things. Our schools are becoming more active now that Temple Gate is close to completion. You must study hard so that you can be good. After all, a woman’s place is to find a good yokemate. Bear a home. A name worth carrying. When you married you will probably bear the name of your yokemate who should be of fine conduct and standing. You will bear some good children. I believe you will grow more handsome. You are already pretty tall. You should have no problem finding your yokemate, happiness and duty in it.”

 

Chief Deacon Albert did not know that Marta would become the enforcer of The Testament of New Ezekiel. That she would not find a yokemate. That men around her would be misogynistic and scared of her weight and size. That women would envy what they thought her independence that also came with her position. That she wouldn’t be happy. She wouldn’t be performing duties but executions. And, that, by that time both her parents would be dead. That she would, only could, trust Knoth. Most of the people, she had trusted would either be dead or fearful. Temple Gate would never be paradise for Marta. But, she didn’t know this yet. In fact, her childhood was more happiness in some ways than she would receive later.

 

As she left confession she saw the crisp afternoon sun. She loved it. It was the same sky that she saw since she was young though obviously different. The clouds look puffier and wilder here or maybe her imagination drew them as ancient, wild white or grey bison who thundered the sea-grass of the sky. She liked cows and horses. She always seemed to like the herbivores. Probably, she felt she was sturdy and quiet as them. Marta saw from come out  a house seventeen year old Ruth Ibis. Ruth was working hard preparing dinner. Despite her coming to the new gospel faith, she still seemed rusty. She was a runaway. She had been advised to marry a man though apparently, he was an exhibitionist in the city she stayed in. This did not bode well. Some people said that she had been a bit too cheerful around forty-five-year-old Knoth. Some women even spoke Ruth loved Knoth. That she planned on being with him. But, Knoth, had taken oaths not to marry. Though, no one knew if that was similar to an oath of celibacy. For the time being, no one really questioned it. Knoth had been keen to take a wife himself though he did not know how to choose one. Yet, later on, not feeling up to he decided he would take an oath not to marry to remain as immaculate as possible.

 

Ruth did not smile warmly at Marta. She did not smile much these days. People had joked she was a harlot. No one seemed to joke so much about Rosemary. Perhaps, the hypocrisy was Rosemary had a husband and also because Rosemary was older and cooked well. Rosemary married young. She was about seventeen when she had Marta herself and now she was close to twenty-six. In some ways, she looked more girl-like than Ruth. Ruth who looked like she had done drugs before she gave it up. Her teeth were not so good and she was skinny. And, she didn’t like hard labour because she wanted to gain more weight. Marta had heard her say that to another runaway, Blanche Barrow. However, she seemed to want to be a good wife for Knoth. Most of the unmarried young women and girls seemed to be interested in either marrying Knoth or someone. The men were also eager though they attempted to act it was only a womanly thing to be excited in finding a nice yokemate. Marta had once heard her mother say: “Ya’all seem lucky. New place. Came with a new yokemate too.” Of course, it was a joke but her father blushed and became kind of angry. It seemed he felt that Rosemary was not interested in him anymore. Though, apologies were said, Vincent wondered out loud once if Rosemary would marry someone else. He seemed worried about that. He was forty years old now and he had been with Knoth since the ranch days. Though it was only later that Vincent joined Knoth in the ranch that was soon invaded by the police.  

 

Ruth almost scowled at Marta: “Well, if it wasn’t Marta. What do you know, looks nothing like her mama, with her red lipstick and all those slutty clothes.”

 

Marta looked alarmed.

 

This was the first-time Ruth behaved with her like this. She was not so unkind or unpleasant. She had never blasphemed in front of her. At her tender age, she knew what “whore” and “slut” meant. Did know what “bastard” meant too. In fact, out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the so-called bastards, or spoken of even if he had his father with him, Asher Arazabel, with the one of the naughtiest kids arounds, Thaddeus Dodson. They were around the same age and they looked at Ruth smirking at Marta. Marta was almost as tall as Ruth. She also seemed stronger than her. This was one battle Ruth should not have picked.

 

“You can’t tell that about your mama.” Marta was a bit teary, she was confused. What was happening?

 

“Oh really, everyone knows your mama a slut.” Smirking still Ruth spoke, “That way she don’t sleep with your daddy right, she wants to furrow Knoth. Sluts only do that. She might as well furrow dog —“

 

PUNCH.

 

She could only see the sun in the corner of her eye. She felt nothing. For a moment, she felt something was apart from her consciousness. She could see the blood come out of the blood and nostrils. She could see Thaddeus cheer and Asher look like he was watching a television show. She heard a soft cry from Ruth but then the older girl was flat on the ground, shaking, trembling. Bleeding and shocked.

 

“My mama isn’t that, you wobbly chair whore.” Marta clenched her fists. She loved her mama and papa a lot. She felt they were always there for you even though everyone teased her about her height.

 

Hearing the insult Thaddeus burst out laughing. Asher could only smile and rub his face and laugh a bit along with Thaddeus, (whom they called Thad, or Glad, ‘cause that rhymed with his name). She could hear Thad say, “wobbly chair whore” a couple of times and burst out laughing each time he said it. Ruth had clutched her face. Marta’s hands like a lion’s paws. She was stronger than most of the boys and girls her age and even older. One of the other teens in Temple Gate Samuel Jenkins had lost to Marta at arm wrestling a day before and had to give her some of the candy for his infamous candy collection he had. He also seemed to be a marble collector as well and played well enough in the games that boys didn’t easily challenge him. Neither the girls who did play marbles. Marta had challenged him but he seems sketchy if he would lose again to her again so declined.

 

There would be some hard truths that Marta would face growing up. One of them would be the way she had to deal with Samuel when she grew up. It would not be one of her fondest memories.

 

“You runt!” Ruth thumbled as she tried to get up, “I fucking was going to boil that corn!”

 

“A little mud don’t hurt anyone bitch.”

 

The sweet yet sure voice came from Helen Bailey. Who seemed to be around Marta’s side now. The girl was a month or two younger than Marta but she always felt the other girl to have a very strong personality. And a curious mind. She thought if both of them could last here. After all, she saw that young girls like her were not meant to be so curious. Not even young boys. Well, she saw young boys become curious over sex and the teens show them things — magazines and other photos. She had wondered at her sexless dolls and thought where were the magazines the girls could see. Most of the adults, including Knoth, did not like those kinds of literature and they usually threw them in a ravine or something if they found them. Their world was meant to be immaculate from the problems of the world that was left behind. Outside knowledge was considered ignorance in this world. It was a still a bit tricky law because not all of the New Ezekiel followers were completely on board with that. Some of the doctors, like Vincent, thought it was still good to go outside to learn about surgical purification techniques and such but Knoth was not keen on this. Nor were others keen on Helen’s father keeping some of his sociology books. In one of them were pictures of other cultures where women married more than once or had two husbands or even men having wives; some were women worked a lot of manual labour and did not espouse the belief of meek women. Monogamy in some of the books is shown to be so full of loyalty that a man usually did things to prove his love for a woman. Of course, there were pictures of “catamites.” A word she also heard from her father once and was spoken of by Chief Deacon Albert as an outside world thing. Helen once said one of her favourite pictures in the book was of two men kissing each other and the one of the same men kissing a woman. She thought all the people looked pretty and calmer.

 

Ruth glared, “You Helen slut!”

 

“Don’t hate me ‘cause you look far ill than a aight year old.” Helen laughed and playfully slapped Marta’s shoulder. Marta had to smile too. Then laugh. She actually liked Helen. Even if later on their relationship would become a bit tricky. She could not say she ever hated Helen. The truth was there was always love between them. A love that she always couldn’t talk about. But, it had been there. When Marta was older a younger and robust Val would point it out to her that Helen was like one of her yokemates. She didn’t deny it.

 

Ruth looked at everyone laughing at her and just went inside the house. Helen looked at Marta. Marta was already a good four or five inches taller than her and most of her classmates. “So there martyr. Whatcha up to?” Helen’s nickname for her. Well, she wasn’t the only one who completely used it She did have other nicknames though.

 

“I told Father Albert about what you said.”

 

The jovial hand over the shoulder ended with a bit of an annoyed look, “Oh c’mon Marta.”

 

“It’s just some of the things you said were not bad things. I wanted to know what Father Albert would think.” Even as a child Marta’s voice was a bit raspy. She hated it when she was young. With her looks it made her look older. She wished she had her mother’s sweeter tone or her father’s melodious ones.

 

“Father Albert is like them other stupids I tells ya. He doesn’t care for education. Or, a place. He only cares about being top dog in a small barn.” Helen joked.

 

“Small barn? You mean Temple Gate?”

 

“Yup. You and I both know this is not the world.” Helen chuckled. In the distance, Thad and Asher were coming towards them, Helen looked half-annoyed and half-playful, “If that old geezer bothers me Marta. You are at fault.”

 

“That was one sweet show Marta. Giving ol’ Ruth Ibis the turn of the cheek as they would say.” Thad laughed, “You have to admit she didn’t look bad on the ground. She kinda spoiled said my daddy.”

 

“Your daddy probably trying to take her to town too.” Helen laughed.

 

“Ain’t not Troy, don’t you says that.” Thad looked a bit angry, “Troy” was a nickname for Helen that only a few knew, “My daddy is fine with Mama. He don’t want to be with a young girl like her.”

  
“They say that man who is always trying to show his privates and hardly can keep clothes on is gonna be her yokemate.” Asher after a while spoke, he was calm and usually insightful, “I feel bad for her. I don’t think her yokemate seems like a good man.”

 

“We live away from the world.” Helen commented, “She got no choice but to settle down even with idiots like that.”

 

“I heard, from my brother, that Albert actually proposed to her.” Thad snickered.

 

“Are deacons allowed to marry?” Marta asked.

 

“Yeah, they can but it is advice for them to stay away from getting a yokemate.” Asher said. Marta realised despite Asher being a year younger than her he could rival her in being observant and quiet. She did not know what it meant though. Both all the other kids and teens were a bit loud. Some of them also didn’t like living in this sort of environment because to them it wasn’t exciting. They were starting to miss the world outside. She wondered if that would be a problem that would escalate.

 

Marta looked at them, “The school is being properly set up. I think after a while we will be able to attend.”

 

Thad seemed happy, “Well, that’s good. Homeschooling, as they call it, isn’t really my thing.”

 

Asher laughed, “I think it will give us something to do besides sitting at home, listening to prayers and working in the fields. You know being pious or whatever.”

 

“I don’t care about being pious.” Helen looked irate, “I wished my parents didn’t come here. I miss watching television, I miss going to a real school and I miss the food and I miss hearing radio shows. And, reading other books. My father thinks this is a fresh start or whatever, I don’t want a fresh start! I just want to be able to a kid!”

 

Marta didn’t like it when Helen got angry and upset. Tears were welling up on the other girl’s face and she actually felt horrible. She didn’t understand why this was happening but she could understand it wasn’t making her happy. Marta hoped school and continual improvements to the town made Helen happy. She liked nature. This outdoors town was only a little bit rougher than the farm she stayed in. However, she could see that Helen didn’t like it. She liked nature but she didn’t seem pretty happy about living all the way out in the desert.

 

Thad got nervous, “Hey calm down Helen. You don’t need to be unhappy.”

 

“Even if you are unhappy Helen. We can’t do anything. We are kids. We have to listen to parents. Even if they make stupid rules for us, beat us, curse at us. They think they always know best and will teach us that too. Even if we see things better it won’t change how they think they know better.” Asher said pretty insightful things, though Marta overlooked what he said could be taken as insults, in Temple Gate children are made to listen, to obey the rules of grownups, however, Asher seemed least bothered, “You shouldn’t run yer mouth so much. You will get beaten. Send to bed without supper. Also, here there are no coppers. If they lash you to death they will think they killed you for yer own good. Don’t you see, you are crying over spilt milk. That’s what my mama also say when she upset. When papa don’t listen to her and when he also thrashes her. And she has to thrash him back. Don’t cry. We should just stay together. It will be better that way.”

 

Helen held on to Marta now. Marta stroked her hair. She liked that Helen came to her when she was upset or scared. It made her feel like some knight or prince. She liked feeling like that.

 

Thad looked annoyed, “Should you be saying your parents thrash each other? Out in public?”

 

“We live in different world now. I think everyone likes beating here. It won’t be against the law.” Asher explained.

 

Thad looked sad, “But beating isn’t right, always is it? God don’t always beat us. So why should people get beaten all the time?”

 

“I think that is why God is God and people are people.” Marta says quietly.

 

The quiet descends on them.

 

The afternoon sun peaks between clouds.

 

Marta keeps on stroking Helen’s hair.

 

She doesn’t pay attention to her clothes getting wet and even a bit messy.

 

She holds onto to the other girl.

 

 

 

Marta feels the slap.

 

She feels it pretty hard and she is knocked down a bit. Only a bit. She gets up easily. She doesn’t hit back Father Albert. Marta’s father comes along and punches him right in the face.

 

“You don’t dare slap my daughter you uneducated swine!”

 

Marta listens to her mother calling her. They are almost the same height now. Marta runs to her and Rosemary envelops her in her arms, “Stay here dear.”

 

“Your little abnormal bitch is lying…” Albert is spitting out blood and looking angry, “I didn’t say nuthin…”

 

“You called my daughter a whore, for her name…” Helen’s father, Lucas, looked ferocious, “You said for Marta Hawthorne not to listen to her. Fuck you, you no-good asshole. No wonder you were a loser outside!”

 

“And your science, anthropology or what not, is the bane of the world I tell you!” Albert tried to attack Lucas but he got pushed down by Vincent. “I am telling you I told that tall freak nuthin!”

 

It was decided that Marta be excused from confession. Knoth was not very pleased but he decided sure, why not. “If you want, I can sometimes listen to your daughter’s confessions. But I think you are enough, Vincent.”

 

“Sullivan, I don’t know why you even appointed that guy.” Vincent was annoyed, “I mean he is pretty well rude and all of that. Sure, you don’t want someone like Lucas to take over.”

 

Knoth looked like he was thinking, “Well, not everyone here is as educated as you and Lucas you know. Nor, are they educated like me. Some of them also read bad. I chose Albert because he had some pastoral training. And I think most of the others like him too. Let’s see, how it goes okay?”

 

“Are you saying others don’t like us much because of education and all of that?” Vincent calmed down and seriously asked.

 

“I think they are just not too trusting is all.” Knoth explained, “I guess there will always be some reservations between city folk and country folk. Though I know you are mostly from a farm too. I think it will take some time to well you know build some trust. Also, Vincent,” Knoth looked carefully, “I know you and I have been friends but you came to the ranch a bit late. Some of the others found that to be problematic. I think we should hold some dinners and all to make others well, more comfortable.”

 

“Yeah, thanks Sullivan.” Vincent nodded. “You know,” he smiled, “I can hear the voices very clearly here myself. You been having those really intense dreams as well?”

 

“Yes.” Knoth looked pleased, “I have.” He held Vincent’s shoulder, “I told you this was paradise. I knew it. Now, we all will hear the voices, better, clearer than the radio. We will hear it and we will become better people. You made the right choice Vincent. I am proud to be a new prophet but I am also happy to have followers like you. The Testament of New Ezekiel will prevail.”

 

“I am sure it will.” Vincent smiled.

 

Marta heard their conversation. She heard the voices herself. Though it sometimes looked like some dark shadow was walking around and she tried to catch it in her dreams but it looked at her and asked: “Why are you here?”

 

She could only reply, “I don’t know. My parents told me too.”

 

The dark shadow chuckled, “I was born out of the shows and light you cannot see. I am not who you think I am.”

 

And, Marta would sometimes wake up screaming.

 

Sometimes, the shadow would grab her with his long ink hands and she would try to pry herself from it and she would wake up screaming.

 

Her mother was concerned, “Marta never had such horrible nightmares before. I am scared Vincent. I don’t think we should have come out here.”

 

“Don’t say silly things Rosemary, it’s gonna be okay. Marta just needs time.” Vincent tried to be rational.

 

“I hope you know what you are doing.” Rosemary looked glum, “I seriously don’t know if this was the right choice…”

 

“Look, darling, we just got the town running a bit. The school is going to start. Marta is just so removed from her former lifestyle I think she is scared that’s all. After sometime, things will settle down.”

 

Things didn’t necessarily settle down.

 

Marta would still get the nightmares.

 

The shadow seemed to like her and call out to her.

 

Sometimes, she thought she heard its voice during the day.

 

But nights. Nights were the time the nightmares usually came.

 

So, she decided to try to break her sleep pattern up as much as possible. It didn’t always help.

 

She usually slept badly at nights. But, she tried to hold still. Sometimes, the shadow didn’t seem to care about her but just seem to want to play with her. So, many nights could be good.

 

She did have the habit of going to bed early and waking up early. Sometimes even around three am. She did chores. Sometimes she cooked the entire breakfast.

 

Sometimes, she would go out at night. Hear strange sounds and voices. Feel a strange pull.

 

She would sometimes even get stopped, almost like frozen, when a strange light with a shrill sound come out.

 

She thought she was dreaming it. Yet, whenever that happened, there were always a graveyard of birds waiting. And in the shadows, she could sometimes see, as if not a dream, a shadow, softly laughing.

 

One of the first times she picked up a pickaxe was to kill the shadow, Though, it disappeared.

 

Ever since then she had been carrying one. Wrapping it in cloth. Also, putting a number of incense on some of them. So, things were never too dark. So, she would be able to see. If her mind was playing tricks or if something was really out there.

 

 


	2. Bleeds False Heaven’s Fear, Beast Seeds The Cracked City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter was originally VERY LONG. Like it was 20k long. I then decided that would be a torture to read in one go for the people who were reading this fic. I decided to make the content into independent chapters and post all of them consecutively. I hope this helps with the reading.
> 
> There will be townsfolk information and some family tree info on this chapter and some of the next. I hope that this reads well and you guys like it =)

 

 

**Bleeds False Heaven’s Fear, Beast Seeds The Cracked City**

 

It was still 1977 and Marta was still eight years old. Her height and frame, tall and strengthened, was imposing. Though chief deacon Albert slapped her she did not feel pain. Rather, she remembered Albert clutching his own hand. Rosemary and Vincent were happy because they believed Albert got exactly what he deserved. They also did not wish to go to confession with him as chief deacon. Obviously, situations of such a boycott could not be taken lightly in Temple Gate, where religious service and communal duty went more or less hand in hand. Knoth tried to reason a bit with Vincent, however, he had to accede that Vincent’s positionality was definitely a point not itself an error. Albert had slapped his daughter for simply referring to Helen Bailey as a whore. Sullivan understood that no one’s daughter should be easily called a whore but Albert escaped the motif of Helen of Troy. Despite understanding where Albert was coming from, Sullivan also thought that there should easily be no bad blood amongst the people of The Testament of New Ezekiel. Both sides were not to quell their anger easily and despite having so many social powers Sullivan seemed unable to dissipate the argument. This made Sullivan angry as well: he sometimes spoke rudely to Father Albert stating that despite Helen of Troy logic, Helen Bailey was Helen Bailey. Sure, she could be incompetent as only a girl-child can be, Sullivan’s argument was that he still couldn’t easily cast her out. Albert tried to reason with Sullivan:

 

“There is always the chance she could be the ‘lesser whore’ mentioned in the gospels.” Albert keenly said, “She means to study about flowers, make a garden. I am telling you, she is speaking like a Lilith. A Lilith who wishes to make a garden and then fornicate with endless demons and burn the garden down in an instant, she may even revel in sin.”

 

“I am the reverend Father and I am new Ezekiel.” Sullivan looked disdainful at Albert, “I am the one who wrote the gospels in the first place. Don’t go teaching the old grandfather how to fuck.” This phrasing was ironic seeing that Albert was older in age than Knoth. “I am aware the gospel speaks of the greater whore, lesser whore and the martyred mother including the spider-eyed lamb. But you forget yourself Albert. Our nation is not a line yet. I have not fathered Helen thus there a chance she will not be the antichrist. My own seed will beget the enemy. The voice told me. Even if she is a ‘lesser whore’, she has yet to bleed thus she is still a child and cannot be anything as of yet now.”

 

“But Papa Knoth. I do not wish to do this.” Albert looked angry, “These families are sure to become heretics, dragging the righteous down. They are not taking the signs as signs. Mosquito repellent for locusts? Do you see the way how they talk? They are like the new radicals and liberals, who fornicate and grind themselves to sloth as a raging bull to the colour red. Surely, we should be cautious with them.”

 

“We all need provisions and I can look after them.” Knoth sounded stern, “Do not try to take my rank from me Albert; you will regret it.”

 

“You are the New Ezekiel. I believe it. But surely, surely, you can see my reluctance—“

 

“Albert.” With a firmness of voice, “The congregation all will need confessional duties. I can handle some on my own but I hope this little feud between you and the Hawthornes and Baileys stop soon. I will counsel them as well. Our Temple Gate has a higher purpose than this. To kill the antichrist. The Enemy. This squabble is completely pointless. You are a deacon, my chief deacon, you will carry yourself with the most best interests to my tastes. You should be firmer and not lose your head so quickly. You are being too stubborn.”

 

“As your chief deacon I was doing exactly that.” Albert looked determined to make a point even if Knoth found it pointless, “Don’t you think I was thinking about our best interests, Papa Knoth? Is it not our duty to make sure, as your gospel states, that we must not distract ourselves and actually sharpen our knives for the holy mission to save the paradise from the antichrist? Then, Helen Bailey wanting to watch television and listen to radio are against what you are teaching Papa. I was simply saying to Marta that she should be weary of her friend’s wayward ways. This will not do in Temple Gate.”

 

“I suppose many people wanted to watch the television and it doesn’t work here. It is good you pointed out that Helen should become more dedicated to her religious duties. Yet, your actions towards Marta and her are not pretty exemplary. Marta had done right by reporting what she saw of Helen’s behaviour. She is a child who still needs instruction. We will use the rod on both of them if they need it. But we must teach the children and if they misbehave we will be strict. These children will one day grow and carry on the line and I feel they must be properly educated in our ways. But, we must not have bad blood.”

 

“No. I want them to apologise.” Albert demanded, “I am chief deacon Papa Knoth. You should love me and respect me. I am so dedicated to our cause.” Then Albert looked sour, “Papa Knoth, let me take a wife soon. I wish to marry to have relations with Ruth Ibis. Try to understand that I need a wife.”

 

“It doesn’t need to be Ruth.” Knoth didn’t look pleased, “I understand that you need a wife. But, you cannot marry Ruth. She is already promised to Thomas Pannet. I believe the match is good enough. We have many unwed women here in Temple Gate. And, also unwed men. We need to see who is to marry who. Thomas has already seemed alright enough with Ruth though Ruth doesn’t seem to like him; what can that young girl really know? I think Thomas seems okay about her and so Ruth’s being not interested in him doesn’t faze me. She is a woman who must maintain her ‘blood covenant’ as the voice of God willed it. She would probably bear even my children.  So, will most of the women here. You can have your pick. How about her friend, Blanche Barrow? You should marry her. I believe they are of the same age even if Ruth may be older or looks older.”

 

“Blanche is thinner and doesn’t even have breasts.” Albert looked annoyed, “I mean, Ruth is skinny too but she looks pretty to me. How about Geraldine Rubery?”

 

“Fine. You should probably marry Geraldine Rubery then.” Knoth nodded, “However, stop squabbling with the Hawthornes and Baileys. I will tell them the same. This cannot continue nor else I may have to execute some of you.”

 

“You won’t — can’t execute me, Knoth, I am your chief deacon!” Albert seemed to look comfortable with Sullivan and a bit too sure.

 

“Yes, but chief deacons can be replaced.” Knoth looked at him grimly.

 

“Knoth my service to you is impeccable.” Albert stated, “You can’t have me killed for so-called disturbing the peace. You just like ‘em Hawthorns and Baileys a bit too much.”

 

“I am never partial.” This was not true, of course, Knoth was impartial to the Hawthornes and the Baileys because they were educated and they knew a lot of things. Just like he was partial to Jude and Johanna Rippington who were already cousins on the maternal side. Jude was a good apothecary and he also knew how to fix things: his wife was also good at building things, though, Knoth and others felt she should do more traditional work and use to pressurise her to do some of the more “womanly duties” she had helped with many of Temple Gate building projects. He was also exception with Ethan and Paula Sohr. Ethan and Paula were sweet people who seemed to look cleaning and also do a lot of the butcher’s work. Though Ethan and Paula didn’t get along too well and sometimes Sullivan use to give ‘services’ to Paula and Ethan didn’t seem to mind.

 

 Knoth also liked Mathew and Petunia Mills. They had a son named Paul who was also eager to do the work of deacons. Sullivan hoped that Paul would be a good candidate for a chief deacon seeing Albert was also a bit too self-serving, haughty and petulant. Ethan Sohr was the father of Ethan, who was named after his own father, who would go on to father Anna Lee and marry Bailey’s half-sister, Lois. Lois Bailey would be born a year or two later and would be child of Anna, Lucas’s wife, who Knoth would furrow one night when he is blinded by the white light and filled with lust. Obviously, for some time Lucas did not know this though Anna told him afterwards. Lucas didn’t seem so mad. In fact, initially he accepted their prophet Knoth was allowed any woman. Though, it would show in his face, a slight smudge of discontent, as Anna had been his school sweetheart. Anna herself did not feel so happy but she had also been guarded. What would happen if she denied Knoth? Lois was named Lois because it meant “better” and Lucas and Anna subtly thought they wanted her to have a better reputation than Helen, who as grew up, became a misfit. Helen understood this so her relationship with Lois was always strained; she called her younger sister stupid and a bastard child which would get her a thrashing sometimes by both of her parents though it hardly discouraged her. She was also mad that her parents thought her to be ‘worse’ than her sister and she didn’t like her. Though, Anna would have another daughter, Annabelle, who would be hers and Lucas’s. This sister would be someone that Helen got along with which used to make Lois angry because she wanted both Helen and Annabelle to like her. But they didn’t. Annabelle would be a bit curious too if not mischievous like Helen. She would think Lois was a bastard too and find her oldest sister to have a charm and flare that appropriated what she though a woman, an individual should be. Annabelle would be betrothed to Paul though that would not turn out well.

 

Things would not turn out well for Lois as well. She may be Knoth’s daughter but she would have sex with him. Then, as Ethan would say to Blake, she would get Scalled. This would pain Ethan dearly. It wouldn’t pain Marta much. Marta, even knowing Lois was Knoth’s daughter, could not forgive her for making Helen feel worse. She knew that Helen’s feelings mattered to her a lot. She would tell to Lois before she was going off: “You got exactly what you deserved.” And Lois would look at her, both angry and shocked and then cry. At that time, Marta did not believe that what happened to the Scalled was syphilis and gonorrhoea. What she didn’t know is Lois’s fate would be uncertain because of Asher Arazabel.

 

Knoth looked angrily at Albert, “You should watch your words carefully.”

 

“I am sorry Papa Knoth.” Albert apologised a bit reluctantly and it showed. “I just don’t want to apologise to them first! I am chief deacon!”

 

“You will do as I say Albert!” Knoth was losing patience, “You will tolerate them and be gracious to them. Confessions are necessary for our Faith. If you do not do what I ask of you I will publicly punish you by throwing pig’s blood at you if necessary.”

 

The words made Albert almost sink; what the hell? Modern Ezekiel or not, Albert Lane, was still the chief deacon of the community. If the Modern Ezekiel treated him like this, a man in debt, who somehow should not even receive gospels had, then what could he do? True, Knoth was literate and he had a good job as a shoe salesman in Albuquerque. It was also true he was a man who faced horrible debt. That he had no credit. Though, unfortunately, Albert also knew he was a nobody back in the world they had left behind. Lane was only slightly educated and he had a low standing in the pastoral offices. His main interest was to have some fun. Having grown up in a family with strict religious tenets on one side and some strict social ones on the other, he had felt he had not had much in life. He was not handsome, well, not completely in his youth. He had thought who would care? Women were expected to marry worse looking men with worse habits. So, Albert thought he could have a nubile young domestic maiden who would do chores and want his cock all the time. Of course, Albert had no idea of women; he was not that efficient in bed too. He had no wealth as well so he did not know how to get a girl. Soon, many women were getting more “liberal” and “loose tongued” as chauvinists like him would always state. The fact was once men like Albert had some access to women if they had jobs in the parish, or land or some decent occupation. However, they could be ‘dullards’: creatures of pure selfishness and limited rationality. Women, obviously suffered this far too long in the West, finally reached a limit which their bounds had to be broken. The fact they would endure so long, women of all races, each bound to some maleficent arbitrator, proved that they had many of the most endurable aspects of the species.

 

The 50s and 60s in the United States of America had considerable expanse in Feminism and Women’s Liberation. Though the movements each had their own problems or flaws, which Marta could see that the advent of the millennium did not completely resolve, but enlighten, the origins of such movements were strong and noble. Yet, the chauvinistic man and the comfortable woman would not understand this. Their selfishness they blanketed under moral and ethical guises to try to fetter the rallying cries of freedom. This was also a time of Civil Rights and racism also tried to use religion to silence the just anger and need for equality from Black Americans. Albert Lane wasn’t a deeply thinking man on the existential crises of Women or of African Americans. He was a privileged, semi-lower middle class man who thought he would get to fuck around with pretty girls. One of the many reasons why Albert despised Knoth was that him being the Modern Ezekiel means he would find the comforts of many women. Also, as a salesperson, Albert thought that Sullivan had had a lot of sexual encounters while he belonging to the Parish, could not.

 

It was these entitlements and delusions of grandeur that was cemented between Albert and Sullivan. Never realising that corporations could use religion to make their own ventures. The thing was, all the civil rights’ movements, were antithetical to gain wealth at the price of subjugation, torture, sexism and wars. It became a problem to some like Murkoff who had a Nazi’s scientist brain projects (literally) but not a sample. Suddenly, women and men were becoming cautious and also thinking of other choices. So, it was easy to twist religion on the people hapless and desperate. They thought they were also their own society a favour as many undesirable “looking” women and undesirable “looking” and “thinking” men were not ousted into their own hell hole. A hell hole that Murkoff could use as their own.

 

“Why would you get rid of me if I don’t apologise to the Hawthornes and Baileys? I am as important as them, ain’t I?” Albert gave a peevish look that even surprised Knoth.

 

“You may be important as them.” Knoth talked angrily, “But you are acting so badly I may have to replace you if you don’t behave well.”

 

“With who? Lucas Bailey?” Albert challenged, “Knoth, you know as I do that people don’t trust Baileys and Hawthornes on account of them coming in late. You can’t make someone so late a chief deacon.”

 

“You will go about as I say.” Knoth challenged more fiercely, “Both parties will apologise! Under my command! That is the thing you must do and if you don’t, I will personally see it that I will have Geraldine Rubery on her wedding night aside you! Do you understand you bastard?!”

 

Albert looked shocked. Knoth has just threatened to steal his wedding night and looked serious. He nodded meekly. That threat he could pull out (pun intended) and then Albert could not do anything. Though, Knoth now realised that Albert was a loser and that if he did not tread rightly this loser would create more problems. What Knoth didn’t know, that is in his older years, due to the signals, due to being under Murkoff’s influence for so long, would actually make Knoth much like Albert. Always thinking of fornication and power. Now, the dosage was there nor else why would Knoth abandon his common sense and sleep around? Yet the quantity was still a peg short. At this time, Knoth realised that if Albert was more interested in sex, as voracious as him, then he would become a rival in his own right. He may reject him as Modern Ezekiel and try to even interfere with the community. Only yesterday, had Albert spoken also out of turn, stating, “If you mate and bring the antichrist, should you mate?” He licked his lips; it was just Albert being lecherous hoping again to somehow bed Ruth. Of course, Sullivan gave Albert a good thrashing then as well; telling him to watch his tongue and remember who he was speaking too.

 

* * *

 

 

Rosemary had also asked the question to her husband when they had dinners; “Why does Papa Knoth need to have sex if the antichrist will come from his lions? Also, if he has every woman he wants doesn’t that make the antichrist appear faster? Does God really want the world to end so soon? Is it because some people were went to the moon and came back? It just sounds silly if you ask me.”

 

Vincent became angry: “You are just a party girl.” This made Rosemary’s face sour, “You don’t understand religion as intimately as we do.”

 

“As I didn’t understand I asked you so we can discuss.” Rosemary’s voice was a bit higher, Marta knew they were going to fight at supper again, they usually forgot she was there and carried on their arguments, “Why are you getting angry?” Marta always thought her mother was rough and flamboyant. She also had thought her mother was vain and only cared about her looks. Truth was, her father sometimes thought so, so, she thought so. The problem was that they didn’t match up well. Her father was a man who married someone who was in some way beyond his league and similarly his mother did the same. They were beyond each other’s’ leagues in different ways.

 

Her mother was social and knew how to handle people. Marta saw it when Petunia Mills was beaten by her husband or when she was overburdened with work and crying that it would be nicer to have a washer or something, her mother would console her. When Mathew was angry in public and would smack Paul in front of others, Rosemary would go and stop it. Once or twice she took a blow or too herself. This made Vincent once punch Mathew and Mathew was now always careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally hit Rosemary when ‘punishing’ Paul. Mathew was ambitious and his ambitions sometimes made both Petunia and Paul suffer. Already, Mathew was betting on Paul’s eagerness to be the next chief deacon as something of a secured position. So, he was hard on Paul, telling the boy to do more bible reading and gospel studying. To copy gospels and also bound new bibles and to be topmost in class in answering questions. This station meant that he and his wife, Petunia, should also work hard, which actually meant Petunia would work hard. What people didn’t get is that the crops and vegetable cultivation was a collective effort but each domestic house was not a commune. Women could help each other but they were also made to work for their own households which could get pretty tiresome and vexing. Mathew’s father would get angry at the slightest signs of dirt and also beat his wife if she refused to clean. She would cry that being in the desert like terrain made everything dusty. To defy the dust was also like defying the will of God to her. Her perfectionist husband would sometimes even refuse to sit to supper or meals of he felt she did something ‘inadequately’ making Petunia’s mental health become pretty much like a roller coaster ride in the hands of a three-year-old child. Her mother would help the other wives. It seems being at clubs and bars may not always have been a negative experience. It was not necessarily a “wild life” as much as Rosemary’s parents thought. It was also sometimes a culture of strong bonds and friendships. Girls who were allies were willing to look out for each other because they understood that certain men, either friend or stranger, could be entitled and dangerous. Girls could turn on girls too; slut shaming was rampant, so was jealousies and in-built misogynies, so Rosemary understood already this culture.

 

Vincent was a bit quieter and a bit reserved. His expertise came in that he understood children and had been a teacher so he understood how to deal with children. He also knew how to crop well and do some handiwork. He was a good conversationalist (a quality Sullivan envied). He could, on good days, talk pretty amicably and well with her mother. He could be counted on fixing lesson plans for children and also understanding how the harvest goods could be allocated. Similarly, he also understood that milk was important for growing children and butter, so he made sure that the cows were well feed on thick hay and grasses and even leaves of corn if need be. He made sure that Marta drank milk almost three times a day and that she also breakfasted on eggs almost daily, and other days on well wheat bread and even some chicken or good corn. She sometimes even was given chicken broth to drink from time to time as a snack. It just seemed that her parents made only the bare minimum in communication and that when they did they seemed to look so much at their different ages, steps of life and also different skills; their contrasts of high volume, that they shirked away from each other. It was true Marta’s mother still missed her social life and also her friends. She had dreams before of becoming personal assistant to the new coming lady entrepreneurs in businesses in salons or at least even share markets. Vincent didn’t dream so big. Vincent’s dreams were a bit limited because he was too content. And, his complacence was one of the reasons he initially joined Knoth. It was true Vincent was not a racist, he just had troubles understanding female rights, though he wasn’t a sexist. He just felt that men should protect women in every walk of life, not as dependants, but as queens, not understanding that queens reign but women ‘served’ more or less a patriarchal system. Though, seeing his wife’s questions and discontent he was starting to get some ideas. Only, he was also worried and ashamed because he had never wanted to hurt Rosemary. There was some love between them. Love between two humans who were suddenly bound up and desperate to belong. A minimal love. Not a strong love of understanding.

 

“It’s not that Rosemary.” Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose as he was actually puzzled by the questions. “You understand,” now looking at Rosemary, “That a man must marry; have families, or at least have children. Knoth cannot be bereft of those, right? But it is hard that he must bear the antichrist but he is also strong enough to kill his own child when she turns out to be an antichrist.”

 

“What about pills to stop babies?”

 

“Rosemary!” Vincent looked horrified, “That’s a whore’s way!”

 

“Is it?” Rosemary challenged, “If Knoth can fuck around whoever he wants why can’t a woman have birth control pills and refuse to bear the antichrist? I mean.” She realised that this was almost a heresy, looking at Marta, Marta could only give an indistinct, short nod to assure her mother secrecy. When she was older, she would smile at these moments, her mother had treated her as an ally and a best friend, all this time, all the while, even though she was a child. It was a powerful position full of trust and responsibility. If that was not an evidence of love, what could be? “Why would God easily want Knoth to reproduce if Knoth is said to have brought out the antichrist? Also, by having sex with so many women. Surely, can’t a woman refuse to bear the antichrist girl child? I mean think about, if it’s me, I would be scared to bear such a child, one who destroys the world. I mean, also, the child may completely rip out my entrails while coming out. She may murder me in my womb. Wouldn’t that be horrible? Thing about Marta, what would she think if she knows that her own sister is the antichrist? I mean, it would be so horrible. It would certainly be a burden to bear.”

 

“Is is a stronger burden than Knoth’s” Vincent looked annoyed now, “Also, why do you believe you will bear the antichrist? Is it because of your partying ways?”

 

Marta knew this was an insult. She saw her mother become quiet and also a bit angry. She also became annoyed with her father and looked down nor else she would stare at him quite menacingly. “You think of only my past? What about Knoth’s past then? Surely, he must have done something? Being a prophet he is to sire the antichrist. If I am guilty, shouldn’t he also be guilty, then?”

 

Hearing that Vincent looked down. He looked ashamed. Marta though rightfully so. She didn’t like it when her parents fought physically or verbally. She didn’t think God liked unkind words and she thought that unkind words did not make people if God themselves despised unkind words. “I am sorry, Rosemary.”

 

“You can keep your sorries.” Rosemary had tears in her eyes now, “I don’t need them. You will always think you are better than me. You somewhat chose to marry me. I was forced to marry you.”

 

“It was not my fault.” Vincent quietly saw his wife cry, he tried to touch her hand, but she refused, “Your parents offered and I…I didn’t have anyone…so, I accepted…” Then he spoke even silently, though Marta was there, “Look. It ain’t all bad. We got such a tall girl, we speak so much in front of her as she is so tall. We forget she ain’t even a fifteen-year-old. We have had some good times.”

 

“Marta is the only good that I see from this.” Rosemary looked away and spoke this, “After all, she only looks at me as her mother, she respects me, she doesn’t think I am a whore or a horrible person.”

 

“That’s not true!” Vincent looked desperate, “I never thought of ill of you like that!”

 

“Save your breath.” Rosemary scoffed, “You insult me on my partying life. At least I had a life. I had ambitions. What did you have? A farm you sold off for coming out here. Following some new religion, we both are not so sure about and then also just being the way you are. Thinking as you are knowledgeable you are better than me —“

 

“That’s not true —“

 

“— telling me always of a past life.” She pointed at Vincent, “Staying with you is my hell. I believe in God that there must be a heaven because surely if hell is this with you than a heaven is there somewhere. I came all this way out here for you, for Marta. I could have run away. Left you. I wanted desperately to make it work. I wanted to change a bit. Become a bit more conservative if it meant helping you. I wanted this to be a fresh start —“

 

“— so do I Rosemary. I came out here for a fresh start. To show you! I can be your man! I can be successful! We are lucky we are in a new religion, with a new Reverend! We are blessed by God! I know we have our patches—“

 

“— we don’t have patches. This is a single thing. This is us!” Rosemary banged her hand on the table startling both Martha and Vincent, “I left my parents. I just told them we were leaving and they trusted your judgment. They didn’t even seem bothered I would write less to them. They though it was good I was getting all pious and whatnot! It made me feel lonely and abandoned! Now here you judge me just for asking questions! I have no one who really values me and loves me aside Marta! I hate you Vincent! I wish I can die earlier than lay with you another time!”

 

She was getting up leaving the table and Vincent was trying to stop her, “Please eat!” he called out.

 

“No!” Rosemary left to go to her room. She would sometimes break jars and vases that she made and busy herself making new earthen ones again. She once brought a vase of fine china which upset her and Vincent as there was no store to go and buy more if needed or anyone to get a good second hand from. So, even her anger needed restraints. Marta realised this sort of encaging life could be suffocating. Late at night, she could hear her father, telling sweet things to her mother. Vincent wanted to make love to appease matters between them. Rosemary initially refused, yet after Vincent apologised over and over, she did let him but they both could feel the tension amongst them, negatively impacting their attempt at lovemaking. Marta stood on the doorway. She could hear her father cry out — which she realised a bit by now men did even women but women not always — and her mother just “huffed.”

 

“It wasn’t good…I just finished…like…I had to…it brought me no pleasure…” Vincent quietly said but Marta heard her father.

 

“I don’t care. You got what you married me for. Now sleep.” Rosemary sounded sour.

 

“That’s not true. You know that.” Vincent seemed to kiss her, Marta heard the noise of kisses following, “I do love you. I am happy to have you. I am.”

 

“No.” Rosemary stated firmly, not to be uprooted, “You thought I would be beautiful and stupid. And, yes, for a while, when I was younger, I was impressionable and not so bright. But, you may be an old bastard but I am still growing. I know who and what I am. That troubles you. You wished it would be easier if I just followed and you lead. You know that.”

 

Vincent stayed quiet, “It’s just…” he couldn’t deny it wasn’t completely untrue, “I do think I am older. I feel I would I would always do things for our best interests.”

 

“If I was so young, you should have thought before fucking me, after all I am still the mother of your child.” Rosemary’s voice was so strong, so clear, Marta heard it and shuddered, it could easily destroy Knoth’s sermons, “I carried her for nine months. I had another life inside me. I am stronger than you know. If I was so young I would have cried all the time doing that deed. But, I gave us a daughter, Thank God, I did pull through. I was around seventeen when I had Marta. I was still growing up. I still had her. You were an adult. So, if I was still so young, why did you give me the responsibility of carrying your child?”

 

Marta could feel the heavy silence like cotton covering the ears and almost like dense storm clouds.

 

“You can’t say anything because I made a revelation today without a gospel.” Rosemary dryly laughed, “You men, so easily accept the position of the ruler, never even knowing what and whom you rule over. You are ants who tell Earth Mother that she is their bitch and whore —“

 

“That’s enough Rosemary!” Vincent scuffled with Rosemary and Marta started breathing fast when she realised it was happening, “I said I was sorry! You know I only want best for us! I mean it! I love you!”

 

“I won’t believe you.” Rosemary held strongly, “You love me but put me down in front of our daughter. One day she will disrespect me as you because she learned it from you!”

 

“Alright, Rosemary, please, I am sorry,” Vincent sounded in tears, Marta realised her father was crying, “I just didn’t want to say anything out of sorts. If we say something wrong it could get us excommunicated or killed.”

 

“But, I only asked a question.” Rosemary iterated, “I mean, I don’t understand a prophet or a saint can father the antichrist, I don’t know why the antichrist is also a girl child when even the devil is called the prince of lies. I just don’t understand, Vincent.”

 

There was a silence between them. Marta counted her breaths as ghost sheep. Usually, she didn’t like thinking of ghosts because that greyish ghost came out and talked to her at times, look at her oddly, she felt she was cursed according to the gospels. After all, she was already seeing a sharp phantasm and they had not yet truly breached hell’s cunt. Sometimes, she wondered what a ‘cunt’ truly was. Thaddeus said that it was a woman’s privates. So, she asked Thad if her privates were also from hell. Thad only thought for a moment and said if she bled it could mean blood of the sinners pouring out from her thus making the cunt a hell-like orifice. Though, her mother later told her that she had been told by her doctor friend that this was just menstruation and it was something girls developed so they could conceive and help their body maintain hormones. When she said this to Thad he had grew wide eyed and stated “Sinners must pay blood wages for newborns?! So, the blood of a woman’s cunt is the festivities of hell?!” Of course, Asher told her that it was just God’s way for women. He also told this to Thad who stated that way of women had pretty red bloodied cloths and he was glad because bleeding for 5 to 7 days sounded like some sort of sport he wouldn’t be good at. Then he even asked Samuel if marbles were played on a board made out of hell blood from a woman’s cunt would the marbles not get stained be valuable and the ones that did get stained were “bad marbles” who must be exorcised. Samuel looked at him. Burst out laughing and rolling on the ground.

 

“I don’t completely understand it either.” The silence was broken by her father’s voice, clearer now, “I believe God has a plan for all of this. We also heard the voices underneath the radio static and see weird apparitions. It is, becoming, as the gospels stated, so there has to be something here of truth and value.”

 

“All I know, that we didn’t climb a mountain to get the voice. And, I heard God’s voice, in the bible, to be pure and just. It feels weird that Knoth would bleed for his ears a child, as he said in gospels, newly circumcised. It just feels too violent. I am just saying it’s all.” Rosemary seemed calmer now. So, was Vincent.

 

Later on, in life, Vincent would confess to an older Marta he had similar feelings but wouldn’t readily admit them to Rosemary. By that time, it was a bit too late. Marta was too indoctrinated with the signals, or trying to be, and she had become a close sentinel of Knoth, in training and personally seeing to some of their duties. She would only think of her father, Vincent, sometimes at night.  Think of his confessions and try to put it aside. She would imagine it as a flame she put in a glass bottle and saw it light up her room; it would be contained. It was in a glass bottle so that she made it metaphorical with ‘don’t drink that.’ Marta would think if her father’s queries were just even with those precautions. After all, her father didn’t trust Knoth in the end and he had started so trusting and eager to be part of The Testament of New Ezekiel.

 

Marta was thinking of her father, his words, his guidance and her mother — who, were by then long gone. She was thinking about how Vincent stated whatever Knoth followed was not human but also not a god. That there was something real bizarre and twisted about Temple Gate. That it seems like someone’s cruel idea of a joke. That someone was playing with their lives as though they were checkers or pieces of the chess board.  Though the pieces were not the symmetry of black on white and white on red. Something else was amiss. He did say that like those games one colour: white, was a constant. The noise, the white light that sang its shrill songs through heavens and hells. Yet, the colours they painted, linked to the white light and gospels were all amiss and changing. If they changed too much some of their dreams eradicated things that eerily ‘shouldn’t be.’ As though someone had some requirements and if the tailor did not suit those too ‘long sleeves’ or ‘loose threads’ were chopped and cut right off! This was too perverse for God. This had to be something man-like.

 

She scoffed remembering his thoughts. She cursed herself. Her Faith was imperfect. Knoth was right. She shouldn’t think what her father stated. He was gone. And, he had been almost like Val. So, she shouldn’t trust him. Whatever he stated. Whatever her mother stated. They were to be treated as lies.

 

She was thinking that under a tree when Blake Langermann walked straight into her life…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was some of Marta's home life in this chapter. I hope it seemed illuminating. I enjoyed writing all these details onwards to the next chapter!


	3. A Blade’s Baptism For The Spider Eyed Lamb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an intimate one for Marta =)
> 
> It also talks a lot about the townsfolk and family trees. It shows also some information of Marta and her friend's school life, their rivalries and what has transpired as they were growing up. Temple Gate seems idyllic but it is wrought with a lot of problems and tensions. Introducing some of the canon characters here too ;)
> 
> Marta knew some of this and is learning how precariously redundant and also lonesome Temple Gate can be without the look towards the people she loves and trusts.

 

**A Blade’s Baptism For The Spider Eyed Lamb**

 

Helen did do her gardening. At times her flowers died due to not getting adequate feed or for the Arizona clime too much to handle. Yet, she was good at cooking and planting vegetables so she was tolerated by the community. Marta envied her cooking because she could make a few dishes she couldn’t yet. Marta knew how to cook well too;  she didn’t know her future did not have that domesticity, which was surprising seeing she trained enough for it. She was good at using the pickaxe and shovelling dirt aside. She helped bury bodies for her strength and size were pretty unrivalled. Though, she did not have the ‘masculine exposure’ of physique her body was well built. She was tall, sinewy, muscular in limb though sleek. Her father said she was like a giraffe or a horse. Built with power but not always known how.

 

It was 1984, Marta was 15 now and so were her friends. Ruth had given birth to a girl, also named Ruth, around the time she was nine years old. There was some talk that Ruth had been pregnant before and that Thomas was the father. During their long journey, when they were leaving Albuquerque, Ruth had furrowed with Thomas, which she hoped at the time would just be a one night stand. They had some other encounters since then which resulted in her pregnancy. It was partly due to Ruth's premarital preganancy she was married off to Thomas. Partly due to having less suitable men who could somehow seem to appease her. Ruth was not necessarily meek and unresponsive in bed. Hearing this from Pannet the men were un-admittingly a bit fearful. Ruth Pannet would sometimes walk around naked much to a mixture of astonishment and cheers from both males and females. She was still a young girl and did not know that clothes were not optional. Ruth Ibis would complain that her daughter picked up this habit from her, as she recollected her words, “dirty exhibitionist father.” Thomas Pannet apparently liked walking around naked in his own house and even masturbate openly on occasion. Once he saw Helen peering in through his window as she was a bit surprised at his nakedness. He, desperate in his old habits, started pleasuring himself, telling Helen to call him names and to even tie him and spank him. Helen just looked for a while flabbergasted. Then laughed at him; making him stop. She showed him the finger and leave. Thomas couldn’t always meet Helen’s eyes now but at times he seemed seem to want her to come over and ravage him and spank him and as he once was overheard saying, “fuck me till my dick bleeds.”

 

Marta had been going on the lake now. The lake was not always a safe place. People say it was akin to a circle of hell, where apparitions could come out and attack you, _literally_. Citizens were apprehensive about what this could mean until one day they saw completely mutilated bodies; another they saw throats ripped out of some of their citizens. It became like a capital punishment; that excommunication could lead one being lead further down the lake which was absolutely hostile, if not fully unknown, territory. There had some excommunications when Marta and the others were growing up. Those ousted would have their houses boarded (even stolen from) and it would have been written in pig’s blood “Whores to Satan.” Yet, some of the parts of the lake were still deemed safe enough and Marta would sometimes look at the valley there, fix her customised pickaxe, clean the incense jar and change the incense in it. She would also be able to work at night due to her modifications and as he tilled the soil fast she was able to sometimes help work on new patches of land which she would rewarded with new kerchiefs, a good meal, a sweet pie or something that the people would gladly give.

 

Her most favourite gift, however, was getting one of Helen’s flowers. Sometime she wold get desert lavender from Helen, which usually signifies “purity” and “devotion” (as Helen told her the meaning of some of the flowers). Or, she would give her a willow, a desert willow, though willows were referenced with sadness Marta would make a crown out of them because she sometimes wonders a ‘crown of tears’ was a lesser pain than a ‘crown of thorns.’ She treasured sadness because her tears were sometimes a secret and she couldn’t always cry to her mother or father who had their own troubles. So, she valued sadness in the forms of crowns and flowers, which she could wear as her sign of mourning. She was also given wild heliotrope and heliotrope symbolised “Eternal Love.” She once even gave this flower to Asher, though Helen didn’t like that so much she could only watch amused. Asher took it and cradled it as it were precious. They both were a bit quiet and in their school days, which ended when they were twelve, they both did do many of their lessons together. The teacher didn’t always like that Helen and Marta were paired or Marta and Asher or the three of them. The teacher, who was an elderly lady named June Bishop, thought the students were two close. She did not always like Helen asking challenging questions like “if we all can be the enemy; shouldn’t we look for someone who isn’t the enemy?” To which she would be told to shut-up. Asher did his readings carefully, reading many sentences a second time. Marta was told this by Asher and she also did slightly notice his eyes on the same line longer than she thought was the norm or considered necessary. Asher would also write little rhymes in his notebooks, which was not part of his class, but, he showed them to Marta. Truthfully, Marta many a times did the same, inside her head, and seeing Asher, she had courage to write some of her own.

 

“the willow crowns my head, as I seek  
the blade’s baptism for the spider eyed lamb  
going down the lake to wash some clothes  
joyously casting out, the blood spilt  
from the spider eyed lamb.”

 

Was one of the first verses she wrote when she was thirteen. It became a habit to her rhyme out segments of her gospels too. She made it a habit especially when she saw the ghost laughing at her, it’s weirdly static laugh. One time she was saying it and the ghost came close to her ears: “You think you will be rid of me with my own blood language?”

 

She had screamed in class and then apologised. She told of the apparition. June Bishop told the children to huddle in a circle and say a prayer. Though, she excluded Marta. It was as though she wanted it to be a lesson. She declared, “Marta can be the enemy!”

 

So, some of the kids threw sticks at her, pulled her hair and tried to rub mud on her cheeks. She was strong so a shove or two usually put them back in their places. However, she saw Asher and Helen, even Thad, not be so interested in this. In fact, she had heard Thad say, “Perhaps, June Bishop needs to be furrowed by Papa Knoth more so that her Armageddon’s old, soggy, cunt doesn’t make up stories.” Yet Bishop heard him say the last part and she went into a rage. Asher just mouthed at her tantrums, “Madam Bishop, don’t you see apparitions?”

 

“Of course, child!” June said happily, “It is one of the signs of the faithful!”

 

“If so, then aren’t you the enemy? I mean, you are a woman and you see apparitions. Why aren’t we rubbing your face in mud?”

 

She did smack Asher for saying that. Marta was, _touched_. She didn’t know Asher would do that. Even though he rubbed his cheek; he smiled at her. Marta felt strange. She did feel strange around Asher. Though June Bishop stop ostracising Marta some of the other children didn’t already like her. Paul Mills was one of them. He made fun of her height, her size and strength, saying perhaps God was intended her something else than a woman. She hit Paul with the blunt end of her pickaxe — it was only when she was grown would she put a sharpened blade as there so she could take the Heretics and astray down to “correct the stray sheep” as she would say — and, Paul decided to tease her from the distance.

 

In the present day, Paul and Asher got into a fight. Concerning…. her, “Paul, you are a bastard!”

 

“Wow, Asher, you hardly talk and you now talk about that ugly!”

 

Asher backhanded Paul. “You shut yer mouth,” he spoke slowly, “ye filthy cock, and dog’s cunt.”

 

And Paul tries to punch Asher only to have his hand slapped away by Marta, “Stop it, Paul!” and she stood in front of Asher, who she was already five inches taller than. And a good six inches of Paul.

 

“See, your tall monster has come to protect you!” Paul almost spits out it, contempt burning his irises as livid as embers, dyed with the chrome of incineration.

 

“At least, I have protection.” Asher actually holds slightly Marta’s waist, Marta’s hand systematically goes to his hand too, Asher lets out a sigh, soft, almost undetectable but delectable, as he looks up at Marta and smiles. She smiles back, “No one protects you Paul.”

 

“When I am chief deacon you guys will know your place!” Paul angrily walks off.

 

“You are alright, Asher?”

 

Asher nods and smiles.

 

Marta feels like she is a prince. Asher’s prince. The thought warms her and she says goodbye, a bit quickly to Asher. She says Helen coming up and decides to go with her. Helen says she wants to pass time by the lake. She doesn’t want to cook dinner. Her father criticised her flower growing for a moment and she wants to be truant to show her disdain. Seeing that Marta enjoys her flowers she decides to allow the truancy. Helen’s flowers were too precious to be criticised. Also, didn’t her father help her at times too? So, it seems Lucas was a bit inconsistent about some things. Parents could be inconsistent. Marta knew that all too well.

 

Helen says, “Paul likes you. He once even stated he likes your height and he likes you have at least big breasts for your age and he wants to furrow you.”

 

Marta cringed, “That sounds disgusting.” Her voice becoming raspier as she got old. Her father thought it was also aftermath of her sometimes moving out at the cold desert night, traveling to not always sleep so she didn’t have to see that weird shadow or ghost that chuckled at her and told her she was in a lie. Whatever that would mean.

 

“Which part?” Helen looked contemplative, “The height and breasts thing? Or, the furrow thing?”

 

“Both.” Marta almost covered her breasts with her hands, “Furrowing is usually,” she thought back to Vincent apologising to Rosemary, “Done when someone is sad, it’s like a messy flower-crown.”

 

“What? Really?” Helen looked surprised, though she mellowed down, “Well, that explains Lois, doesn’t it? Annabelle and I, both think she is messy. Hmph, better my ass!”

 

“I think your parents like that she cooks well and cleans well.” Marta spoke, “Those are not bad qualities — I mean,” seeing Helen’s scowl, “I am sorry.”

 

“No, No. I am sorry.” Helen spoke smiling now, “She is good at those things. She is just a bastard that’s all. She is not better than me.”

 

Marta nods.

 

“Hey, could you give me more of your lupine?” Marta says, suddenly, cutting the brief silence between them. The afternoon turning into crisp early evening, purples and pinks dying in streaks and colliding against flares or red and yellow within a blue highlight. Marta thinks the sky looks like a flower garden.

 

“Lupine? Well, it’s a good think it’s a desert flower and my father and mother help me grow it, though you took like a dozen. Sometimes they die quickly, my father sometimes gets serious about sermons and makes me a model ‘wife’ material and they seem to die and all. Would you want some more heliotrope too?” Helen says with a smile.

 

“No, lupine is fine.” She remembers, she can sleep with heliotrope near her pillow, yet she has put wreaths of lupine around the steel bars of her headboard.

 

“What do you do with them?” Helen looks at her.

 

“Huh, with the Lupine?” Marta looks nervous, “I just put them on my headboard.”

 

“Why?”

 

Helen comes closer. They are near the lake. The birds sometimes fall from the sky. Vincent call them Icarus. Going too close to the sun. Gospel of Knoth said they were like angels. Thad calls them manna — only to be smacked by Bishop.

 

“I just think they are the best flower that helps define us…” Marta slowly just says it. She doesn’t know how she says it. She wonders if a fallen bird or two is an angel relaying her feelings. Or, is she burning to the sun.

 

Helen looks to the sky, “Lupine helps with misery; it means a voraciousness and admiration, also imagination. I like Lupines. In a desert where there is nothing. Lupine becomes to symbolise something new, doesn’t it?”

 

Marta nods.

 

“I also put honeysuckles, red and white, when you bring them to me. If I run out of lupine.” Marta says eagerly, she did love flowers. Especially, getting them from Helen. So, she could put them around her bed.

 

“And Eternal love’s wild heliotrope.” She gives a mischievous smile to Marta, who thinks she is going to blush. When she sees wild heliotrope, rich, with a small circle of white and radius of purple. It was also called scorpionweed.  Something that wild is also something that can be dangerous and beautiful too. It reminded her of Asher. When she was young, she also liked his name. Asher. Not Black. Not White. When years later she would learn Blake’s name meant “Fair” she would be amused that a name that contained half the letters for “black” would actually mean fair. Though, that was the truth. The night was black and fair. The snow is white but could kill. Whiteness was also the colour of the light that enflamed the sky like a second white sun, screaming out a rage that only angels could understand. After those flashes, people would either become oddly hungry, sexual or even angry enough to kill. She had seen usually fun tempered Thad actually slap his horse after a white light came forth. People acted strange for the light. Sometimes, like them she forgot who she was and where she was. She would just lie down and think she was still a child. Sometimes, she would forget to know how to speak. And then the ghost would come up and its mouth moved and her words came out: “Be still.” Then it smiled, “You are not dead it.” Then it would speak for itself, “What sounds do you make in pleasure?” and she would snap out of it and look disgusted.

 

“What about scorpionweed?” She stated bluntly, and a bit distracted.

 

“Heliotrope is its namesake truly.” Helen smiled.

 

Marta didn’t know why. Helen put her hand on hers. And, she liked that feeling.

 

Helen was a bit more ‘colourful’ than her. The sun had made its mark on her skin. Like a patina of a love bite fostered into the symmetry of growing and shedding skin. She was still a cool sliver of a moon on the lake. A whiteness to rival that of the light as if she was sculpted from the noise, chaos and fever of the same droning shape that eclipsed the skies and shoots birds with cupid’s death kill. She did not like her skin. Later on, she would love its lack of melanin due to her being like a ghost, a sepulchre, a grim reaper lady moving against the night. She was Marta, “the lady”, in Hebrew and she was Marta The Testament of New Ezekiel’s Sentinel. A juggernaut of bone, muscle and a siren like howl.

 

Yet now, she felt she could feel warm in her and she pulsated with a wine’s paint on her neck, cheek and spine. Voraciousness and admiration of bones as the lupine; a mixed medley of blood and sinew. She could hear herself peak with her adrenalin which mounts higher than her pickaxe and grazes on her nerves like someone testing tunes of a guitar string — her father played the banjo at times to which her mother sang — she could feel herself be both player and instrument: object and subject to the melody she sings, rhymes she types, deftly as if her heart could always sing and write this song.

 

The seed of the lupine. Burst forth from the tongue and lips and it made a connection with the other.

 

A kiss.

 

Her first.

 

With one of her own sex.

 

She felt happy.

 

She knew Helen did too.

 

Her agreement was noted when Helen pulled her in for another and her mouth admired the other. Two Lupines entwined.

 

“I will slip a lupine into my pillow.” Helen says as they are walking back, “That way, we are together.” Then she smiles, “Lupine and Heliotrope, huh…”

 

Marta didn’t know what that meant.

 

Yet, she was completely happy that she and Helen kissed.

 

She felt like her prince charming but also her charming princess.

 

She was the flower and also the sky.

 

* * *

 

While going home she saw another house boarded. She saw that June Bishop was looking sad. She approached her teacher, “Madam?”

 

“It’s the Clarences.” She automatically informed. “They been doing things not fit by Papa Knoth. Soon, they went to Papa Knoth for dinner and seem to be thinking of leaving. Knoth had the husband poisoned and then chopped to pieces in front of his wife.” Bishop still tried to control herself, Marta knew that she was close to this family, she had treated the wife as a daughter of sorts, having no children of her own, “Then Knoth branded the wife as ‘lesser whore’ and decided to hang her and then chop her body to bits.” She let one secret tear slip, almost like a button come loose, “I don’t know if they were astray or not. But, I wish Knoth would hear them out. Oh well, Papa Knoth knows best.”

 

“I heard that Albert Lane was caught trying to have relations with Ruth Ibis again.” Marta just let that out, she felt one slip up counted for one for her part, though, she felt it was safe enough to do so, Bishop may be trustworthy at this moment and Albert Lane’s story was not too secret even if it was going around like a rumour that had locust wings and a locust’s appetite, “What will Papa Knoth do about him?”

 

“He was being a bastard and trying to force himself a bit on that Ibis girl. As you can imagine, Pannet is not happy.” Bishop informed again with her teacher’s air of giving information.

 

“What will be done?” Marta asked.

 

“I am not sure. But, Papa Knoth must do something. If he can punish the Clarences surely Albert Lane can be punished too.” This was said with almost contempt. Such an openness in defiance, she had never seen June Bishop speak like this. Surely, this was from some deep pit she usually either knew existed or kept hidden. It marvelled Marta what one could discover about someone.

 

It seemed in the distance, someone called out to her, “Marta, is that the lady Marta?” It was Sullivan Knoth, now older, and less handsome looking than her father, in youth he could not rival her father, nor could he rival Vincent’s looks in seniority, this was obviously a blow that Knoth nursed in secret.

 

Bishop, Marta noticed, forced a smile. “Hello there, good tidings, Papa Knoth.”

 

“I see you stand amongst the astray flock’s old abode.” Knoth says this and Marta can notice as though some venomous snake has bitten her, she shudders a bit, Knoth notices it, “I know you were close to them my dear June Bishop. However, we cannot have bad blood amongst us.”

 

“Then how come Albert Lane is never disturbed even when he tries to interfere with Pannet’s wife?” It comes out her mouth as though she was transfixed and only made to say those words. Though, Marta can see regret on her face as soon as she says it.

 

Knoth just laughs and grabs June Bishop, “Say that again.” He shouts.

 

“I am sorry Papa Knoth!” Bishop looks pretty scared. She didn’t expect to him to act this violently so immediately. Neither did Marta. It seemed as of late Knoth became easily more angered and annoyed than usual. Though, his temperament, as Vincent and Lucas knew, was never a calm one. Rosemary commented that many of his problems lied in both his personal issues and financial ones; both were not really his fault yet he did lack the guidance and discipline even from others to solve them. Rosemary was correct: it was Sullivan’s lack of support and depression that allowed Murkoff to find in him a viable text subject. After all, not everyone, like Father Martin years later, would call the Walrider the god. Similarly, a lot of people may hear voices in radios but seeing The Testament of New Ezekiel allowed incest and endless orgies for Knoth — well, none of it sounded religious especially on an Abrahamic background.

 

Sullivan slapped June. Marta gasped. It was a tight and strong handed one that allowed the frail elder to be pushed and spinned and fall down on the ground. On impulse, Marta knelt to help her.

 

“You shouldn’t do that Marta…” the voice was close to her and for once she thought it was the shadow talking only to realise it was Knoth’s voice, “She had also acted like a ‘lesser whore.’ Punishments can be handed out by me at any time.”

 

Marta still helped Bishop up a bit, “Papa Knoth.” Marta started clearly and genuinely, “Surely, Madam Bishop has spoken a bit rudely. The concerns she talked up are still valid are they not? Albert Lane is chief deacon,” hearing that word made her remember Paul, would Paul also lecherously make comments to her, sure she could easily break his jaw and bury him, it was the community of Temple Gate who needed a stronger chief deacon and neither Albert or Paul seemed to have fit the description at all, “I mean, shouldn’t someone new be appointed?”

 

“I think there is no need for now.” Knoth looked nonchalant, Bishop looked pretty upset at him, though she did this with clandestine gestures, the slap still hurting, “I am sure a whore like Ruth Ibis may have seduced him. Nor else, why would Albert go to her? There is no reason.”

 

Marta and Bishop both looked confused. It was a long-standing rumour that was also a reality that Albert had his eyes on Ruth Ibis since they started Temple Gate seven years ago. In these seven years Lois Bailey herself was seven years old and the young Annabelle bailey had been born and was now five. Ethan Sohr also had been blessed with a son, the second Ethan Sohr who was also the same age as Lois and went to school with her. Paul was still studying diligently to become a chief deacon. Geraldine Rubery did not bear any children. People called her barren for a while, unable to fulfil her blood covenant. As punishment, Knoth had spoken that women like her should either be his own pleasure or easily ostracised. Albert had wanted the second choice seeing he was a selfish fuck who was possessive even if he couldn’t fuck well. Geraldine had told both Blanche and Ruth that fucking Albert was like fucking a diseased Walrus.

 

Blanche herself had given birth to two children, six and seven respectively, in the past seven years. Ruth also had another child and was expecting one soon as well. There had been other children to grace the Mills. One of them was Paul’s sister, Shiloh, was the same age as Annabelle. They seem to be good friends despite the animosity amongst Helen, Asher and to some extent Marta. It seemed Marta was blessed to have had friends to carefully pick her battles with Temple Gate ruffians. Not everyone could have friends like that. Paul actually did not get along with Thaddeus either. He only got along with Simeon. It was truthful that Simeon got along with everyone. Mostly, his own cousin, Athalia. Athalia and Simeon seem inseparable and it was known that perhaps these two would be wed. Though Jude and Johanna who were Simeon’s parents, with Simeon being a year younger than Paul and the others, wanted him to marry Blanche’s girl child when she grew older. Jude thought a woman ought to be younger. Johanna didn’t completely agree as she was a handywoman and was around the same age as Jude. She confessed to Rosemary that she thought Temple Gate had taken away her husband’s understanding.

 

So, Simeon Rippington would marry one day soon Rebekah Barrow. Though, his heart would always stay with Athalia. Even on her death bed Johanna would curse her husband stating that not only was killing Olive a sin, making their son marry Rebekah was also another sin. Simeon would always be unhappy in his marriage. Athalia would marry Thomas Pannet’s son, Zephaniah, who was a year or two her junior. Ruth would have two more sons. Both, however, would be Knoth’s children. They would be born after a year or two from Ruth Pannet. Already now two of them were six and five. The last would be born after Marta’s fourteenth year. One of them would be Corgan Knoth or Corgan Pannet, who would be as zealous as his father Knoth. The other would be a person who would be friendly with Asher, his name was Zedekiah Knoth or Zedekiah Pannet. By this time, Thomas Pannet would also be getting mad that his wife, getting Knoth’s affections, would not like him anymore. It also would pain him that both Zedekiah Knoth and Corgan Knoth would become among the higher ranks of The Testament of New Ezekiel. If not deacons, expert people to count on. His only son Zephaniah would be a romantic who would have a semi-unrequited love affair with Athalia Rippington, cousin to Simeon. Simeon youngest sister, Olive, would be killed; she would die when she was around seven years old by her throat being slit. Simeon, despite killing his own child he had with Rebekah, Jason, could not take it. His only other remaining sister, Atarah, who was handy as him, could never forget killing her sons Ezra and Gera. Atarah would be Paul’s wife, Atarah married him because she thought she could have some sway and freedom in Temple Gate if she married him. There was still talks that Paul would be chief deacon at one time before her sons were born. Corgan would marry a woman named Joy Penfold, who younger sister, Jasper, would be the young woman Blake would find in that underground room. Corgan had broken their own gospels when he took Jasper a “rival to her sister.” Though he also had sex with his own daughter. Zedekiah would sometimes watch Corgan rape Jasper with some of the other men. He usually didn’t stay long as he preferred to have sex with willing women, and twice did it with his half-sister.

 

Despite these, there had always been accounts of incest as well. Corgan would have child even with his half-sister Ruth Pannet, they would call her Maryanne, the later children, a pair of twins called Susan and Samuel Pannet or Susan and Samuel Knoth, would be murdered by Ruth and Corgan. Ruth, more so because she didn’t completely like having sex with her brother Corgan. She thought she was getting rid of something that besmirched her body and her twins will look at her accusingly as she delivered the blade to their throats. Maryanne would constantly flirt with her uncles Zephaniah and Zedekiah. She would eventually sleep with both of them. She would have wanted to be Zephaniah’s wife and was eager about this; only Zephaniah became interested both romantically and physically on Athalia. Maryanne would hate Athalia. She would also dislike Lois Bailey as Ethan Sohr the second was actually a very nice man and would made a fine husband. Barrow would also give birth to three other children, Levi, Dorcas and Eunice Strudwick. Two of them would be married later on in life though their line would be mixed with Knoths. Her son Levi and her daughter Dorcas would fall in love with each other, Levi being a year older. They would have sons Herald and Hanson. Not twins and Hanson being ‘sacrificed’ later on as Murkoff dictated. Maryanne would one day catch Zephaniah off-guard when he became drunk and persuade him to sleep with her. They would have son called Laban who would also be killed when he is around five years old.

 

Zephaniah did not completely regret that death as he was angry that Maryanne took advantage of him. Then there would be Judah Jenkins, brother to Samuel Jenkins, and also husband and brother to Dolores Jenkins. Judah would be the one who would lust after a Harriet Steer, whose brothers, Phineas and Rufus would have a secret relationship though being part of Corgan’s crew. Phineas would be the one that Blake sees cutting someone into pieces in a house after Corgan discovers him. By that time, Phineas would be a professional murderer for The Testament of New Ezekiel. His brother Rufus would also carry pitchforks around if not necessarily wearing an executioner’s hood. Jenkins would have to kill their last daughter, Annalise, but their son Josiah escaped the blade by a year. The same Josiah whose who would see Blake without his eyes. He would grow up to marry Mary Feather whose own younger brother and sister, Lisa and Philemon, would be married. Lisa would find sex with her husband not always filling so she would usually have sex with Knoth aside her husband too enjoying her two lovers greatly. This would be the same Lisa whose letter Blake would read one day talking about cocks impregnating the earth. Philip Slowman would marry Maryanne and tell her that the visions only mean that salvation was close. No one would realise Maryanne’s fate though. It was not completely unexpected though a bit shocking being the granddaughter of Knoth.

 

The reality, going back, is that people had a lot of relationships, different kinds. Yet, one sexual one with Albert Lane seemed pretty impossible. He was the most undesirable male in their entire community. Thomas Pannet still had some looks and skills, despite his habits of running around naked in the cornfields at night (Marta would suddenly see him rubbing against one particular cornstalk. Seeing her he would wave a decent ‘hello’ at times. Other times he would make thrusting movements, hoping that Marta would join him. All she had to do was glare at him or give a cold look; slinging her pickaxe, which would tighten his tummy and make him look elsewhere). Still, there was no doubt in fifteen-year-old Marta’s mind that Ruth would not seduce Albert and that Albert, who had been obsessed with Ruth all this time, would try to have turns with her. Rosemary had stated that Albert was old and some old men do not necessarily have good “staying power” (which, Marta had Helen explain to her some and Asher, blushingly, the other details) and that Geraldine would probably get pregnant with someone else. Geraldine would later have a child, Susanna, with someone else. Though, she would have to sacrifice her son, Jair. Everyone seemed to have at one point killed their own children. Corgan would also kill his other children, Ruby, Peter and Mark, who he had with Joy.

 

The zealous would not necessarily miss their children. Not always. One did not need to be a heretic to feel The Testament of New Ezekiel was losing their charm. Judith and Atarah would actually visit abandoned heretic temples and see the visage of the antichrist female, years later, and comment if the heretics are as bad as Knoth and others told them. They were willing to let children live and the world die. If their children were around would they the need the world? They cherished, in their deepest hearts, the heretics wanting the child, whichever child, even if it belonged to Lynn, to stay alive. Rebekah would not be this lucky. She would be the person that Blake runs into in the Central Town Square; mad with grief at not getting Simeon’s love and also losing her son Jason she would sharpen her knives for the enemy. To her, the focus of her misery would become Blake, someone she would even follow up the stairs in the power generator, muttering rhymes of Zion’s debts and the problems of the travailing woman. When Marta appears, she would leave to quietly slit her own throat later on in laughing madness.

 

“Though, Albert is too ugly to be seduced.” Marta didn’t know why, but she had to say it.

 

Bishop thought that Knoth would go upon Marta as well. Yet Knoth laughed and said, “You may be quite right, Marta!” the difference in behaviour obviously alerted Bishop that there could be some issues here she didn’t know about and perhaps be wiser not to know.  At least, for now.

 

She was not very comfortable standing in front of the Clarences’ home seeing their earthly objects and even communal ones being burnt to crisps, so she excused herself. She fondly reminded Marta that Helen’s sister Lois is doing well and to remind Helen to live in her example. Marta cringed visibly at this. Lois was so much a ‘good girl’ she was a bore. Being warmed by Helen’s kiss earlier, knowing Helen’s heart and flowers, her mind, sharper than a bird cast down from the heavens in either Icarus lore or angels’ metaphor solace, would not make her think of Helen any less than anyone. In her heart, soul and mind she would always consider Helen as a superior even though later on she could see that Helen would never have fit in at Temple Gate. She would sometimes curse herself for loving Helen. Did that make her faith imperfect as well? Both she and Asher were wild cards, a lupine and a wild heliotrope, and what was she then? Who would bind her bed with lupine and sneak in wild heliotrope in her pillows laden next to her. What does that mean?

 

“Marta, would you like to come with me to my home?” Knoth suddenly asks. Bishop hears this, though the teacher pretends not to hear anything and just walks away.

 

“I don’t know Papa Knoth. Isn’t it close to supper time? I need to help my mama prepare the dinner.” Marta innocently answered. There was no ill feeling amongst them and Knoth has not done or said anything that was seemingly suspicious or odd. Marta knew that he would bed girls who were around thirteen and above, those you have had menstruation. She also knew that he would bed the wives of another men like Paula Sohr. However, she didn’t think his actions were ill-placed or ill-gotten. She didn’t know if she was ready for male fornication. She was still glued to the honeysuckle of the kiss of Helen’s tongue and lips. She didn’t wish to spoil it with sleeping with Knoth. She wasn’t really averse to it. He was the Modern Ezekiel and he could have any woman he really wanted. There were some women he did exclude either for lack of interest or because he didn’t wish to have negative relationships with some of the men and women. Though, Knoth’s sexual appetite and loss of faculties increased a lot for his indoctrination to the white light and signals. While others, not necessarily admitting that they sometimes stay away from the white light due to the pain and disorientation they felt in its presence, Knoth would easily go forth and many a times wait in preparation for it. The white light was not totally randomised. Like some siren or a supermarket’s timetable it went off at around four to nine times daily; due to them being the desert the seasons did not change much of that. The more Knoth came in contact with the light and the noise, the sound and the fury, Knoth’s brains were easily getting more scrambled. Vincent and Rosemary, including Lucas and Anna, had noticed that Sullivan was getting progressively hostile and prone to more violence.

 

Ethan Sohr’s daughter, Annamae and their other son Silas, would point out that when they first came here, that Knoth look unhappy from time to time. Sullivan would admit he didn’t understand why God chose him to father the antichrist as he was just a shoe salesman who had faced debt. In his own way, he did think this was another kind of punishment, he had shared this in front of Ethan, Lucas and Vincent. They had all sympathised with him. To be father to the antichrist wa surely not a laughing matter. Nowadays, he thought differently. He would love fucking around and distilling seamen onto women, both willing to take it and unwilling to have cum inside of them even if willing to have sex, believing that his seamen was so strong and potent, like Zeus’s head that birthed Athena armed, he too was strong to bring forth the female antichrist whose cunt of Armageddon would be raped by his own sons, which including Corgan and Zedekiah. If that didn’t bother Silas who had eavesdropped killing the horses and cows did. Silas and Samuel Jenkins were the shepherds who helped the cattle and reared the horses with some other men. Silas cried the day that Marta would strike down one of his horses with her pickaxe. Only seeing the fury of violence in her eyes. Not knowing that murder of any kind usually Marta sad. She did not understand fully why even horses had to be killed. She presumed so that four horsemen of the apocalypse did not manifest because they needed horses to mount. She thought the cows she would help kill would be for the saviour’s wedding supper. She ate cows so she didn’t feel that sad when they thought they would be eaten too. It was just she still did shed tears; there is a healthy consumption of meat with some cows getting killed, yet eradicating the whole stock? That didn’t completely sit right with her. She didn’t say this out loud though.

 

“Your parents know I am the Modern Ezekiel.” Knoth says this cooly, as if he was hiding some exasperation, “Your mama could surely do without you for one meal. I wish to dine with you today. If it isn’t too much trouble, I will send for Laird Byron and Nick Trembley, to tell your parents that you are going to sup with me.” Marta nodded to that.

 

Nick was three years younger than her though Laird was a 19-year-old who was once a pickpocket. He was a beggar in the streets of Albuquerque and followed Knoth during the time he left Lydia Deegan’s farm when he was around 12 years old. Laird had to be carried about by people, even as a beggar and pickpocket he would trick people into believing he was defenceless but he had quick hands and used that to his advantage. Laird had a birth disability in which his legs were short and he couldn’t move fast. As he was getting older his legs were growing shorter in proportion to his body. Now, Nick, was told to hoist up Laird around in Temple Gate. There was talks that Laird was suitable to be a deacon. He had loved and listened to Papa Knoth since his younger years. The Trembleys, Nick’s parents, were not blessed with other children. Even though Knoth also furrowed Nick’s mama she did not mother any children aside Nick. Yet, she was happy that her only child, Nick, would be a deacon’s aid. Nick also had some development disabilities; people didn’t know how to aid him and there was no going to the outside world for it. Once Nick’s mama suggested it and she was smacked by Papa Knoth and even her husband for suggesting it. She would one day be amongst the Scalled and die there. Some comfort in knowing her son shared some of salted crickets with her as a last meal.

 

Laird was learning how to learn archery. He was learning this from Patrick Feather, the father to Mary, Lisa and Philemon. Patrick used to be part of a circus act and so he used to do various chores, such as playing the clown and expert archery. He commented that Laird’s fast hands were much faster than his, around 20-30 seconds faster, which Patrick did catch up to, many a times, saying that Laird would be a good guard for Knoth for his exemplary and exceptional skill in archery. So, Laird sometimes use to trail Knoth around from his younger years, always with some different aid. Silas used to help out and Simeon until Nick became the permanent aide for Laird. Right now, he was stationed in front of Knoth’s house, which was considerably a bit larger than the other houses in Central Town Square and even on top of it. It was also decorated like a chapel with crosses and the intertwining wheels of Ezekiel. Laird looked a bit grumpily at Marta. Marta had been kind to him. Lately, she did see him talking a lot to Paul and ever since then Laird would actually help Paul make fun of her. She did once slap him so hard it sent him flying to the ground and Nick visibly shaken and scared that she would slap him too. Ever since then he just kept a mindful eye of her.

 

“Welcome Home, Papa Knoth, I hope yer evening walk went well.” Laird said sweetly, then actually pinched Nick’s ear.

 

“Welcome, Home. Papa Knoth.” Nick said calmly and with some nervousness. He usually did not talk; his speech patterns were slow, a louder than an average boy of his age. Already, he had a deeper tone getting deeper and the boys at school made fun of him. So, did the girls. Some found it charming though. Laird was bothered by this. Most women did not seem to like him as much; he had a tussle with Hannah Pear who was married to someone else. Laird had only had one or two interactions further. No one seemed to want to settle with him. There would be a time, Lisa bored of both Knoth and her husband, would give Nick and Laird some company. She commented that Nick performed well and Laird was clumsy and nervous. They would get the syphilis from her and one another woman, possibly Hannah Pear again. Laird would not get married so soon.

 

“Do you wish to speak to Papa Knoth?” Despite his disdain, Laird was talking well with Marta. He didn’t seem to be in a horrible mood and that helped his manners with Marta.

 

“I brought her along.” Knoth said casually as he went inside his house. Laird looked a bit confused for a moment. Then he smirked a bit. Both Nick and he thought that Marta was going to get furrowed. Knoth called out from inside, “Laird, go and tell Mr and Mrs Hawthorne that their daughter will come back as soon as supper was over, alright?”

 

“Yes, Papa Knoth.” Laird said so but looked confused. If Knoth wanted to furrow her should he take such little time? The other women he sometimes sent home later or not at all. Also, not everyone was offered dinner. Despite Laird getting up the ranks he had never really been offered dinner at Papa Knoth’s house. He was one of the private guards of Papa Knoth, alongside Nick, and no matter what his compliments were to the Modern Ezekiel, Knoth has never completely invited him to eat. Knoth usually had dinners and lunches with the Mills, at one time the Clarences, the Trembelys as he furrowed the mother, The Hawthornes, the Lanes: Geraldine and Albert and of course the Baileys, to see how his daughter Lois was getting on with her family. He commended Lois on her already taking up housework and doing well in lessons. Knoth, pleased, tell a nervous and even bothered Lucas that he was lucky of have one of his. He would say to a more nervous and slightly unhappy Anna that she should be glad she did not bear the antichrist. Knoth would then mention to Lois that as her father, her life was his, and that if she acted like a whore she would surely become mother to the antichrist or even a lesser whore. Lucas would at times plead not to tell that that. He would actually feel a slight revulsion hearing the words “whore” being used to describe a six or seven-year old. After these meetings, Anna would go home and cry at times. Lucas also would silently shed some tears. What also didn’t help is Knoth would also compare Helen in these dinners, once or twice, with a lesser whore being named after Troy’s whore and tell her to be a more dutiful childlike Lois. Lois initially was happy to be compliments but the disdain and anger Helen felt on Knoth she would take out on Lois calling her a bastard and nothing but a cuckoo’s egg in their house. Even if Lucas told her to shut up or beat her she would still say that. Annabelle, while growing up, started calling Lois ‘the lesser whore’ and also the ‘the lesser antichrist.’

 

Her marriage with Ethan happened because she liked Ethan. By that time, some men also wanted to marry her, knowing she was Knoth’s daughter, but she married Ethan. Knoth allowed it because he could control the Sohrs and he still bedded Lois at times so he wanted someone from a ‘lower class’ family. Lois would take her father though she didn’t always feel right about it. She liked Ethan and it was growing into love. Seeing that Ethan was monogamous and really loved her a lot she also began to love him. Also, her father, who she didn’t know was suffering from a gradual more violent syphilis, was starting to look uglier day by day. His face sagged with age, he was becoming huge, and not in a cute way, but had difficulties walking, even breathing, his face blotched like. It was not a pretty sight when he also during intercourse would be taking like grabs in the dark. No rhythm. Just a lust she wasn’t sure about.

 

As Marta walked inside, she saw that young Lisa, already seventeen at the time and her sister Mary around eleven or twelve, were helping around with the supper. Lisa glared at Marta but Mary smiled at her. Lisa wanted to marry Papa Knoth. That was never happening.

 

They were eating roast lamb, and some corn and full grained bread. There was also rice, some vegetable curry made out of fresh tomatoes and a gravy that served as a sweet broth. Lisa and Mary were told to leave. Lisa seemed to be struggling with her anger. She hoped she could eat with Knoth as a wife to a husband, however, those things hardly happened. Even if Knoth furrowed her he would not always eat with her. She would have to stand until he finished his meal before the furrowing. Mary looked unhappy. She looked like she wanted to eat. Marta unconsciously broke off a piece of bread and gave it to her and Mary became happy as she started eating the bread. Only, to have Lisa try to pry it away from her when they went outside but Mary pushed her and ran away gobbling the whole thing in her mouth.

 

“So, Marta.” As they were eating Knoth finally spoke, “It seems you are, in a year, outgrow even your father, how does that make you feel?”

 

“I don’t know.” Marta spoke, she was elated in some ways, a bit sad that she would stick out too much. So, she was undecided in it.

 

“You should be proud and happy that you have been blessed with such a height.” Knoth spoke while eating some of the corn. She ate along with him. The setting was real nice. She wished she could share it wither her parents. Though, strangely, they weren’t invited?

 

She wondered what Papa Knoth had to tell to her.

 

She wondered for a while…did anyone see her kiss Helen…? Did they say it? She got a bit sad. She didn’t want to lose Helen. Neither did she want Helen to get punished for something she too was involved in. She was good at masking some of her fear and nervousness, including her sorrow. She had become quick to learn from a young age that Temple Gate wasn’t a place one could easily get emotional in.

 

“Why are you silent? Say something.” Knoth sounded and looked exasperated.

 

“I, Thank You.” Marta sincerely yet soft stated it.

 

“Yes, that is more like it.” Knoth smiled, was eating the corn. For some moments, they ate in silence, “Say, Marta…” he started, “I saw you…” she almost choked, “Walking around early morning, even at around four in the morning, we can say it’s night. Why are you doing that?”

 

Marta let out a small breath of relief, cloaked it with eating more food, “I cannot sleep very well all the time Papa Knoth.” She confessed.

 

“And, why not?” Knoth looked at her with genuine concern.

 

“Well,” she breathed in, “It’s nothing really. I guess I get scared.”

 

“Why would you get scared?” Knoth became a bit demanding, his sudden raise in tone was evident he wanted a suitable answer, it wasn’t harsh or anything, it was just the way he was becoming, more domineering and lack of empathy was creeping in. Soon, it would also lack the shortage of harshness and be cruel and malicious,  “I mean, Temple Gate is safe. We are people who have come out here for God. What could possibly make you unhappy or scared?”

 

“A shadow.” Marta confessed, she thought why not, she did wish to know what Papa Knoth thought, “A shadow follows me. Sometimes it seems to have many limbs, many wings or eyes. Almost like the gospels,” Knoth listened to her quietly but without expressions, which somewhat Alarmed young Marta, “I am not fibbing Papa Knoth. I can assure you I see that apparition. It looks like a ghost and I am not sure if it is one or not.”

 

“Ah, you are tall enough to reach those heavens and angels.” Knoth looked pretty pleased, and closed his eyes to relish a moment Marta knew not of, “It was right of me,” now she would know, “You see those are voices of God. Not everyone can see them or hear them well enough, yet. Laird and Nick can hear them sharply many a times. Laird would make a good deacon because he has that. You,” he smiled proudly, “Will also be important.”

 

Marta smiles, “Are you telling me I too will become a deacon, Papa Knoth?”

 

“No. No.” Papa Knoth stated and made Marta almost frown, “A deacon’s job will not be suitable for any women even for other women because, well, that’s just the way it is.”  Though Marta though, Rosemary was counselling women and even men all the time about their private matters and problems, in many ways Rosemary already had filled the deacon’s role, so, she wondered why she couln’t be a deacon, “Don’t be said Marta.” Knoth says kindly, “I actually called you today because you are going to be the protector of Temple Gate. As you seem to know your way around, even in the night, you will be Temple Gate’s sentinel. A warrior if you will. You will help root out people who question the faith, and the heretics and any astray sheep and you will beat them. Sometimes to death if necessary.”

 

Marta didn’t know if she should be flattered or scared, “I…you want me to kill people?”

 

Knoth nodded, “Only, if you have to.” Then smiling, “We need to keep Temple Gate safe; not only from the archfiend Marta but also from those who may go astray. And, the eventual heretics. You are strong, tall and brave. You will certainly do a good job. You already are a formidable figure caring that tampered pickaxe you have fashioned yourself with. You can make it larger and more dealy.”

 

“Don’t you want me and yourself to take to my parents about this?” Marta asks innocently.

 

“Well, you cannot hide in your mama’s aprons all the time, Marta,” Knoth looked irritated, “This is a talk between you and me not me and your parents. The decisions is yours and mine to make. I am giving you a task as your Papa Knoth.” Then smirking, “Are you not gonna even consider it? It is an honourable position. You will be a person who helps Temple Gate.”

 

Marta nodded. She thought for a moment. This was a high honour, to come to Knoth’s house and eat dinner. Being given a position, she smiled, “I will do it Papa Knoth.”

 

“Excellent!” Papa Knoth looked really happy.

 

* * *

 

After eating her dinner, she said goodbye to Knoth and was walking her way home. Upon the road, she saw Asher, he seemed to be waiting for her, “Your parents look they were fretting,” Asher informed, “I heard Laird say you were here. I just came along, I know you know the roads better at night. I could see you were getting along well with Papa, but, I am afraid I do need your help getting back.”

 

Marta nods.

 

The dark curtains of night were out and the stars slowly unrobed themselves and a full moon, potent and ripe, also hung like a pendulous fruit. Asher and Marta kept on walking in the direction of their houses, “I have been appointed as a Sentinel. With my pickaxe I am meant to keep the town safe.”

 

“Wow, that sounds like some big position and honour.” Asher looked happy for her, the mellowed down, “But it is also hard to refuse Knoth, anything right? We may end up as the Clarences.”

 

“I didn’t ask him about it.” Obviously, Marta had other things on her mind, like Helen and the kiss, “Though, there had to be a reason?” Marta was doubtful. Though, she asked Asher what he thought.

 

“All they wanted was to leave.” Asher says this too mechanically, “What’s wrong with that? There is a world out there that God created that needs to be understood and explored.”

 

“Yet, our parents came here, right?” Marta says so, “Obviously, there must be something there that doesn’t fit. Temple Gate is very important. It is where we will get salvation.”

 

Asher looked glum, “I really don’t believe in salvation.” Asher pointed out, “It’s not necessarily that we will get it here. I don’t believe in salvation here, yeah you can look at me surprised, but that is the truth.”  Asher commented on Marta’s shocked eyes.

 

“That is close to heresy, Asher.” She says this casually, Asher could say anything about that and Marta wouldn’t mind, despite her role she didn’t feel like making people force to believe things, though later on she would be too affected, traumatised, so she let some of the rhetoric out the, of infants being dashed to bits and stuff like that, she would be trying to make her faith perfect then, “Not saying you can’t say it.” Then quietly, “Do you wish to leave?”

 

“Sometimes.” Asher says quietly, “This town becomes boring and I wish to explore other ones, that’s all.”

 

“I understand.” Marta replies, it was still getting darker, she could see the clouds coming on, changing colours between those masses; like a congregation with the night.

 

“Do you really?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Asher stopped walking for a while. “It just seemed,” he quietened, “You are okay with everything or even if you aren’t you don’t protest in front of us. You don’t seem to dislike Knoth.”

 

“Do you dislike Knoth?” Marta asked, carefully.

 

“I sometimes do.” Smiling Asher says, “Will the sentinel now rid me for fear of making the flock astray?”

 

Marta didn’t say anything for a while. It was hard to read her. Asher got a bit tensed. Would Marta, really attack him?

 

She touched his arm a bit, “I guess, we can’t all really like Knoth. But, he doesn’t seem to be too…I mean, he is nice to me. I don’t know if I support what he did to Clarences. That was question I also thought. But, how do I rebel? Or, ask him anything? I am just an ordinary person and he is the Modern Ezekiel. I mean, he does get angrier nowadays when he is asked questions. I don’t know what to do. All I can say,’ she smiles softly now, “That I am happy that I got a job as a Sentinel. I feel purposeful beyond anything I have felt. I just want all of this to matter; I want to matter and help myself and others. I don’t know how right it is, how wrong it is. I just want to see if it good enough. To walk that path and learn if it is as righteous as it seems. To know the truths and also aid others in knowing.”

 

Asher put his hand on Marta’s hand, so Marta didn’t pull away, “I don’t see anything ordinary in those thoughts,” Asher looked happy, his face beamed, a soft smile appeared, “Even if they are ordinary. I find them more genuine and clear than one of Papa Knoth’s sermons.” This surprised Marta but Asher got close and embraced Marta, “I feel if anyone is true and devoted. It will be you Marta.”

 

Asher and Marta looked at each other. It seemed after a while both of them blushed but neither could easily let go.

 

When their lips brushed and met, with a siren of tongue and a fusion of teeth, Marta could smell flowers and crisp air, sharp, cool, like a water to be drunk and savoured after work.

 

She was still the flowers and the sky; her mind melted in a way that was so pleasant she wondered why the white light could not learn from it, from this. And her heart felt like being put inside a envelope but also being read. Warm, snuggled but also not suffocated.

 

The kiss ended and Marta realised she had kissed both Helen and Asher.

 

On the same day too.

 

Her first kisses. With two different people. Of two different sexes.

 

She had not fantasized much of this recently. She did on occasions. However, she had not really planned or intended anything specifically. She had longed for it. She had wanted her heart to be in it. No, perhaps she always did have intentions. Just was waiting for a moment. And she had gotten her moments. She wondered how Thad’s face would drop when he thought the reasonably quiet type Marta, though friendly but also nervous kissed two people. Not to mention, one girl and one boy.

 

“Are you thinking what Thad would think?”

 

Asher said as she heard a chuckle escape from Marta, “How did— huh, you were thinking the same!” she laughed and kissed again, softly, a hard peck on Asher who caressed her face. She was happy. Yes, she knew that today the Clarences house was burned. She did feel sad for that. Yet, she was happy that she got closer to the two people she wanted. Helen and Asher.

 

Her smile faded a bit when she saw Asher stare at something. She looked and saw that the shadow was perched by a tree. It looked amused.

 

Without really letting it slip yet, she asks, “What are you looking at?”

 

“Nothing really.” Asher looked back, his glum gone and he seemed alright. She decided to do the same.

 

They walked back to their homes.

 

At night, she realised, that Asher could see the shadow too.

 

 


	4. Here Is The Patience, And The Faith Of The Saints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter that focuses on the fate of Albert. Conversations between Rosemary and Vincent, Anna and Lucas. The downfall of two people does not bring peace. As Knoth had been told he will receive grace but never peace. And this comes down on Temple Gate. People are starting to realise the exclusivity of grace and peace may not necessarily be a good thing. 
> 
> Introduction of another canon character ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoy the work so far =)

 

**Here Is The Patience, And The Faith Of The Saints**

 

Albert Lane looked desperately at a smiling, malicious Sullivan Knoth. He was tied up, on all sides, his limbs were already being stretched. He looked teary eyed, “Knoth, stop this!” he sobbed, “Stop this!”

 

“Are you going to only call me that? Knoth…” Knoth spat on his face, “You always were a fat, useless fucker. Didn’t I tell you? There would be pig’s blood?”

 

Albert was completely covered in pig’s blood; his face smeared with it. “ _Papa_ Knoth…” he trembled, “You don’t really _mean_ to do this, do you?”

 

Knoth spat again at Albert’s face making the older man yelp, “I am the Modern Ezekiel! I always to intend to do what I want!”

 

Vincent and everyone was looking on. It had been several months after that dinner with Knoth where Marta was declared a Sentinel to The Testament of New Ezekiel. Laird was completely jealous, so was Paul. They have not been appointed deacons yet and granted Sentinel didn’t seem to be a more distinguished title than deacon she was newly appointed whereas they still had to wait. The wait was horrible for both of them.

 

Rosemary whispered to Vincent, “Is all of this spectacle really necessary, Vincent? I know he tried to grab Ruth and also propositioned her sex again. I know he is pretty annoying. Why not just get it over it if they are going to kill him. I just wanted that he could hop on a horse and leave. That would be better, don’t you think?”

 

Vincent didn’t really answer the question yet his face was pale and Rosemary took it as answer enough. She knew that both Vincent and Lucas were not happy with the Clarences getting killed. Nor, were they liking Knoth looking down all the time at the Sohrs. Lucas also hated that the Mills acted so entitled and privileged seeing that their son would one day be chief deacon. There had also been a family like the Sohrs called the Ordishes who also did butcher’s work and harvested crops. They had a girl child in school who was around six years old, a year older than Annabelle. The mother, Myra, had only once furrowed with Knoth after she became pregnant so their daughter was not Knoth’s. She was good at making pies and was also good at baking. She sometimes helped Helen make decent lemon pies and cakes scented with Helen’s edible flowers. The father also helped Helen with gardening and he liked growing fruits and tomatoes and doing abattoir work. His name was Tobias.

 

Knoth usually had Myra bake him food and had the father part of the crew with Jude to go into the world outside to get Grape Aid and all that was needed. Vincent knew they were humble, less learned, already poor people, and he knew Knoth treated them servants more than brethren. Clarences distant relatives, the Cleggs, had lost much of their womenfolk birthing the children in what seemed to be difficult births that started when Marta was mid-teens and continued to what they thought were their “end of days.” They would many women who would die when birthing children. Even Blanche Barrow would start looking malnourished and haggardly. Many of the women would be dead by “the end of days” including Corgan’s wife Joy. In fact, their village first started with a bit more women than men but would become more filled with men over the years. Girls as young as fifteen and sixteen would die giving birth either to Knoth’s children or their husbands or people who raped them or people they loved outside any given relationship. The Cleggs seemed to have one son now who made sure that he was making impressions on Knoth’s good side. He actually was now helping tie up Albert’s legs and helped bring the second bucket of pig’s blood; slaughtered the two pigs with his own hands. He would become of the hooded figures that Blake would hide from in the confessional when he saw poor Mary and Josiah getting tortured then killed. This Clegg-son was around thirteen and yet into the sadomasochistic pleasure of hurting and being hurt both by animals and humans (Clegg-son would sometimes inappropriately touch horses hoping they would bite him too).

 

“Knoth, it’s not fair I have given you so much service!”

 

“I told you to stay away from Ruth Ibis!”

 

“Well, it’s not fair! I wanted her and you let the privates’ flasher have her! Why?!”

 

“I make the rules not you!”

 

“You are no Modern Ezekiel! You were a shoe salesman and always will be!” To that statement, Knoth punched Albert right on the face giving him a bloodied nose, which also made an awful ‘crunch’ nose, making it break.

 

“That’s enough Albert.” Knoth says coolly to a crying and cursing Albert, “I told you, you could be replaced.”

 

“By who? That little fifteen-year-old shit,” Albert gestured to the Mills, “That Paul! He is a fucking dog’s cunt, a runt! You can’t replace me with someone like him”

 

“I don’t plan too.”

 

To Knoth’s statement the Mills’ family became quiet. Almost all the yelling in the chapel became quiet too. They had been jeers and cheers to see Albert Lane get quartered. Ruth Ibis also looked extremely happy, beaming, chanting out from here to there. She also fell silent. The Mills, who had been almost dressed up, wearing well stitched garments and stockings and starched shirts for this occasion, went quiet. They thought this quartering was also a commemoration. Paul looked like he was already sniffling. Marta didn’t know if she should laugh at him or feel actual sympathy for him. She had gotten ranked up.

 

Albert look confused, “Who do you think?” he smiled now, “Can even take my place!” Then with some affection, “Knoth, this was your punishment, right? Humuliate me! I will take back my words —“

 

“Your punishment is death and you won’t be pardoned from that Albert. You are a bore and you think too highly of yourself so you must die. I have chosen someone already. They will be trained to become chief deacon one day. I know they have a love of God. And, I really like their family too.” Knoth smiled. The Mills looked on confused.

 

“What?” Albert was shocked, “You fuck!” Now he turned violent as the Clegg boy restrained him alongside few men, “Who?! Who is it?! You can’t get rid of me that quickly!”

 

“Val Ordish.” He said and everyone heard the Ordish family almost start weeping. Paul started crying loudly.

 

“No, I was supposed to be chief deacon! What is going on?!”

 

Knoth actually went and slapped him, “Keep quiet! I make the rules!”

 

Paul did hug his mother Petunia. Mathew looked pale and cold. “But, Papa Knoth, what offense have we done? I thought you wanted our son —“

 

“He is just not the person I need. Look at him, weak and stupid.” Knoth snickered in front of the heartbroken family. Vincent and Rosemary both found this extremely in bad taste. They knew as the years were passing Knoth was becoming more malicious and privileged. They could understand that the Ordish were one of the families that Knoth could manipulate better seeing they were lower ranked even out there in the world outside. They came from poverty and were more “yes-men” than the Mills, who if not so rich were also not so poor.

 

“Val is a girl-child!” Albert laughed, “How can she take my place?!”

 

“How can _he_ take your place, you mean.” Knoth corrected.

 

“ _What_?” This was Mathew speaking, still bewildered by everything.

 

Paul was trembling really hard. His sobs didn’t die down. He was not used to feeling such helplessness. He didn’t understand why Knoth had decided not to choose him. It didn’t make sense. He had, even though at times wanting to quit, suffered under Mathew’s tyranny. He would learn most school lessons by hard, have his fingers and bone ache because of copying the gospels and work and oversee in the fields or crop. He had once thought that this life was not meant for me; it was too hard. Mathew would beat his mother and him if they tried to relax. There is no ‘day-off’ in the road becoming a chief deacon. There were no other things to do than train his mind for this purpose. Now, in one small move. In one infinitesimal second, his entire world was skinned bare like a one who had gone astray and made a scarecrow in their fields where ravens would either fear or sup on the dead meat of the once human being. Furthermore, Knoth had slapped him in public.  This was two great humiliations of biblical proportions.

 

Now, the unexpected had also happened. There had no females in charge on account of their patriarchal and misogynistic ways. Knoth would change this suddenly by electing a female chief deacon? Was everything alright in the world?  Paul could only start sobbing again and hold his mother’s hands. Petunia had been silently crying all the time. All the times, she had scarped the wood until her knees bled, all the time her husband beat her for not keeping out the dust though she tried her damndest, all the time he would slap her for not keeping herself cleaner though she worked so hard and sometimes may accidentally still be wearing an old scarf or dress, all the times he even said she couldn’t eat the dinner she had cooked for her not being hard on Paul or just not keeping the house the way he wanted. The times she had to sit there and see Mathew, Paul, Shiloh and Marcus eat (the same Marcus who Blake would one day read threatening to beat up Judith, his wife, if they didn’t have sex: took after his father). Shiloh would not want to eat those days but Mathew would slap her if she didn’t. It was only Marcus, who was the selfish child since he was young, and most dependent on his mother, eat and smile at his mother. Petunia would one day wish when she later in life had Mark, one of her angels aside Shiloh, who she would be forced to kill as he was her late child, that Marcus should have been the one she slaughtered. She told this to Marcus when he was older and she had been punched by him; her own selfish son. Right there, she was just worried about how she also looked; trying to smile but silently tearful. She looked at one moment at Mathew and though he looked at her helplessly as well, she looked at him with such a powerful rage that made Mathew get really frightened. He should be frightened. After that night, their relationship would never be the same. Petunia would not clean the house so much. She would intentionally make him cook his own food and she would also starve him. She would get physical and at times, even to his surprise, overpower him. Petunia would no longer take any bullshit. She had decided The Testament of New Ezekiel or not she would not let Mathew every be peaceful or graceful as long as they lived.

 

“Yes, Vincent,” Sullivan called from the audience, “Explain to them who Val is; remember, we had our doubts when _he_ was born?”

 

Vincent looked at Rosemary, she looked back at him, there was obviously a certain reluctance on his part, even if it was telling the truth. Both Marta’s parents were not fine with what had happened. Knoth had humiliated the Mills family. It was not only shocking but it was completely against basic decency. The Hawthornes and Baileys may not have liked the Mills much; even though Rosemary treated as counsel for Petunia she had to admit that sometimes Petunia forgot herself and bought into her husband’s line of thinking. Anna would state then, “Don’t come running to us when your husband beats you again?” Only to have her return a day or two later, bruised or crying or both, and Rosemary knew they lived in the middle of nowhere, Anna herself also knew this. It was hard to turn away that whimpering mass or even stay angry too long as they knew the plight of women on Temple Gate was hard. Anna also had whispered to her husband during all this, “Knoth changed his mind, so publicly, it is almost like a double execution!”

 

“I can’t say I disagree with you my love.” Lucas says mournfully, he crinkled his nose in disgust, “This is absolutely shameless behaviour on Sullivan’s part. The whole town is here more or less. We were summoned to watch Albert’s public execution. We weren’t also called to watch an official tar and feathering. This goes against every principle of decency I know.”

 

“Is that really the only one?” Anne whispered, shocked, “In Temple Gate, brothers and sisters, well, they don’t stay brothers and sisters do they? I mean aside the marriage they readily have intercourse. I didn’t know this was allowed in religion! It feels so out of touch with everything I know even as a Christian growing up! Oh, Lucas! Should we have come here? Should we have left everything behind?”

 

Lucas just looked at Anna with sadness. He could only think how his marriage had been perfect. How much he had loved Anna…and still did…Their marriage had been fine… _until_ , that asshole Knoth stepped in. He had a daughter who was also Knoth’s daughter. Knoth still had sex from time to time with Anna. There were times he just wanted to cuddle her and go to sleep only to have Knoth summon her for a fucking. At first, he thought that Knoth was the Modern Ezekiel and that it shouldn’t matter. Knoth should and could everyone he wanted, right? Yet, then it got harder for him. Anna also got pretty tired of having sex with Knoth. She, who had enjoyed wondrous lovemaking with Lucas, would become cold and far away from him, when the proposition of lovemaking came about. She would no longer initiate anymore and also seem to be _disgusted_ by the entire thing. When Lucas questioned Knoth about this; he only stated that it is a woman’s place to be passive and Anna was coming back to her rightful role. To Lucas it was aa nightmare, this so=called rightful role. He saw his wife become frigid and even himself; they both were becoming physically and spiritually castrated by Knoth’s interference in their marriage. In one night of tears and embraces, of love lost and also of love gained with each other, they had found some solace and reignited their spark, that hope manifested itself on Annabelle. Lois felt it too. That spark between her parents. Despite, loving her deeply as their own they sometimes looked at her with _disgust_ as well. A way in which they didn’t look at Helen and Annabelle. She would get angry at them those times. It was not her fault. Of course, it wasn’t. They still loved her and one day Lois, in the Scalled encampment, would remember that Lucas was really her father and not Knoth. Lucas bathed her as a child, sang to her, made sure she ate well — they even named her “Lois” which meant “better” and they always wanted better for her. The situation was complicated. Lucas and Anna knew that some gulps between them were all Knoth’s doing. The selfishness of his and also the selfishness of the “god” he spoke to or they all heard slightly was to blame.

 

Vincent cleared his throat. He knew he spoke better than Knoth, as being a teacher, and Knoth in his jealousies did not allow him to always teach children, calling it women’s work, so that children would not easily see the talents of his. “Well,” he began, “When Val was born we specifically decided to call her —“

 

“ _Him_.” Knoth interjected.

 

“Yes, _him_ , Val. There were signs that Val’s physical anatomy were not completely female. I saw this at times in the cities with a doctor friend. I saw it too. Val is an intersex person. This means that they can have both a male’s parts and a female’s parts. As Val has male anatomy that is becoming more prominent now than his other female anatomy. So, we can assume Val perhaps is more male. Thus, he is Knoth’s choice for becoming a new chief deacon in a couple of years’ time. Until then, Lucas has offered to fill in the place temporarily along with some others.”  Vincent explained as much as he could.

 

The Ordishes were so elated, they were thanking God and Knoth, they were weeping at being commemorated at such a high rank. They had known for a while they could be chosen as Knoth had talked to them separately. However, they still were showing happiness. Knoth had told them the decision since Val was around three years old. No one else knew and Knoth had told them not to say because he wanted to still see what happened and he preferred the secrecy. They knew that Val was not completely an ordinary girl so they took even Mathew Mill’s touch words and all because they knew they were gonna supersede their family.

 

“You are getting a freak of nature to replace me!” Albert was furious and was being pinned down by men as he started to to struggle, “You can’t be serious Knoth!”

 

“I am serious.” Then Knoth smiled, “Goodbye Albert.”

 

Marta felt relieved that Paul wouldn’t be chief deacon. She still felt bad for him and his family yet they had been cruel, hadn’t they?

 

She thought this as she saw a screaming Albert being pulled at all sides by strong men. Marta could hear the breaking of bone, tearing of flesh, Albert shrill cries being gargled with blood. Soon, an arm tore off. Blood gushed everywhere and it sprayed Marta and almost everyone close by. Marta felt a bit worried about the blood on her face. Rosemary came to wipe some away from her face. Albert by this time was still screaming when a leg came off and torrents of blood came out from his now exposed arteries and blood staining the walls of the chapel (which would take like three days to late clean off, but that would become routine). The torrents of blood buffered out Albert’s screams and he was already dead when the last limb dropped off him. Clegg and some men were given the job to rip out his innards and put it around his neck while they dropped in mud somewhere. Marta would see the carcass being eaten by desert animals until it became bones and dust. Clegg was extremely happy to be involved. This was his first dismemberment and he looked excited. He cleaved in on the dead body with the gusto of a pig; and looked happy being sprayed on with dead blood and picking up his bloodied face to smile at Knoth, who nodded approvingly.

 

When they went home, Marta looked at the mirror. She didn’t necessarily like blood. But it shone on her face. As she was somewhat pale. She wiped it away and realised that she would have to get used to the blood. Knoth has asked her to become a sentinel. She liked the idea of taking her pickaxe and securing the town. It felt like she was soldier. A one-person army. She enjoyed that. She really did. It seemed purposeful and she enjoyed it with relish.  She liked the fact a new path was ahead of her. She also liked that Knoth did not make fun of her as Bishop did, excluded her, or some of the other kids. She was happy she had found purpose and she was grateful to Knoth giving her that purpose.

 

While going into bed, with her lupine covered headboard and a wild heliotrope close to her; she also came to an epiphany. She could see the shadow coming at her, smiling, “Nice killing today. All these people are like animals skinned raw and naked for their carnage to become manifested.” Then the creature, with its oddly changing shapes moves around the room like air, came to her again, “What are you thinking about?” it smiled, “You are not scared of me today. Thus, you must be thinking of something important, I reckon.”

 

“I realised what sort of flower I am.” Marta absentmindedly, fingered the heliotrope and also a hanging lupine.

 

“Oh really?” The shadow looked amused, it’s voice raspy as Marta’s, raspier in many ways, “That should be interesting. So, what sort of flower are you.”

 

“Paleface.” Marta answered, she tongued the petals of the flowers. Even the shadow hitched its breath, it was a bit sexual and romantic what the teen did, and she also looked pretty in doing it, “The hibiscus who is all pink but with a red core. Insides red and outside all pink. It’s like me. I also feel I am cactus flowers too. Thus I look simple like a paleface but I am also the cactus. And like the pins of a cactus, I also had redder, inner places in me, I am not always sure of myself.”

 

“That sounds interesting.” The shadow looked amused.

 

Marta in a daze, thought of her role, “I will be thy plague, I will be thy ransom.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for now. I am a bit busy so it may take time for me to update. Also, I wrote a lot for Temple Gate and need to focus on my other fics too. Though, I will try to do all of them justice. Thank You for everyone who has kept reading this far. I really hope that this had been an enjoyable read to you all =D


	5. Deceiveth Them That Dwell On The Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a very intense one. 
> 
> It has some disturbing content
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: CHILD ABUSE AND CHILD MURDER
> 
> This was such a difficult chapter to write. I actually shuddered a lot when writing it and felt emotionally disturbed. At some points, I just had to stop and feel though the words were coming it was so scary that I just had to hug myself.

 

**Deceiveth Them That Dwell On The Earth**

 

“So, how can I help you Marta?”

“You can’t really.”

“Excuse me?”

 

Marta didn’t allow Corgan to speak much more as she entered the house without an invitation. Corgan seemed to shrug though he followed Marta’s direction carefully. He knew she could be unwanted trouble. Like that bastard Paul. Corgan didn’t understand why his father tolerated that asshole but he was certain that Paul would do things his way. That chief deacon reject was a reject even though he was one of the people who became peacekeeper alongside him in Temple Gate. Only, Corgan did the messier jobs of actually rounding people and slaughtering them and Paul sat on his ass too long to really do much.  Paul Mills should one day meet his blade, thought a disgruntled Corgan Knoth, who was also known as Corgan Pannet.

 

Joy Penfold, his wife, who was young and had to quieten her only remaining child, Mark, by slapping him relentlessly on his face. Mark was around five years old and scared as anything. Seeing Marta, he urinated himself. Joy looked in horror as the kitchen floor, adjacent to their dining room, was puddled with a child’s urine. “Fucking twat!” She called him out and furiously slapped the child so much that he fell down in his own urine. The poor child slipped and fell down a couple of times, every time, in tears and reddish eyes he got up, his mother would slap him so hard that his neck would turn and he would be down on the urine again. He was becoming filthy and smelling. Joy hurt her son more in front of Marta, to show how she was a loyal follower of the Gospels of Knoth and a fine specimen in The Testament of New Ezekiel.

 

There was a feast prepared in honour of the killings or rather, ‘sacrifices’, as they were called to ‘god.’ Joy had cooked nice fine bread, sweetened rice with a mixture of berries’s juice sprinkled and caramelised with the rice, she had cooked a good turkey (fowls hard to come by but tended a bit by the Temple Gate people), she had also cooked a fine leg of cow, buttered it and put on some corn mashed with some other fruits as a form of salad. The feast was hefty and made Corgan, who was glutinous and loved being a butcher of animals as of people, loved the smells and the nice warm weather which had allowed his wife to prepare some cold juice as well. This helped mask the water a little better than grape aid though making juices would take time, Corgan would slap his wife if she didn’t make it at times, so Joy, exhausted, would make some juice.

 

She remembered her children wanted to drink some but she had to beat them because she could only make enough to silence Corgan Knoth. He would be in a bad mood if he didn’t get what he wanted and he would be worse in bed if he got into it in a bad mood. He lacked a lot of warmth and attention, and the only details he cared about were that he got people suspicious of heresy, killed his kids right, eat more than well and fucked around when he could. He wasn’t gentle or understanding; he was dedicated to The Testament of New Ezekiel as he knew he had a high rank within it and had power in Temple Gate. He was a man who reduces things to the hollowest of their corroding bones and made things work for him like that. He was not simple. Simple could be elegant. And, he was not. He liked things to work for him. He didn’t like complexities that were shown and he didn’t have respect for people aside his own father. Corgan hated Marta because he was hoping to fuck her but seeing how much his father relied on Marta and how strong Marta was from him made him jealous. He also was jealous of Zedekiah Knoth, his bachelor brother, who was, even though child of the once scrawny Sullivan Knoth and too-thin Ruth Ibis, was a beauty. He was handsome in so many ways that Corgan was not. Corgan chose Joy because she cooked well, even Marta agreed with that, and she wanted to please Knoth, so he knew she wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.

 

Getting married to a Pannet who was also a Knoth was a large honour for the Penfold family. The Penfold like the Trembleys did not come from a stock considered so educated or high ranking even in the world outside. They had been poor and their farm had been taken away before they joined Lydia Deegan’s farm and decided to live their lives as The Testament of New Ezekiel followers. From a young age, Joy’s mother had told her that she would be a respectable woman if she married a good high ranking man in their flock. She even encouraged her to go after Knoth, saying what an honour it would be to be the Modern Ezekiel’s wife. At that time, Knoth had been pleasant looking if not as handsome as Vincent Hawthorne. He was tall enough, scrawny, not of ill-health and he had nice dark hair which was somewhat jet black. Knoth didn’t notice the Penfolds because they were poor and he didn’t always like poor people in Temple gate who he felt had limited literacy and understanding. There was once a time Knoth had been a bit kinder to everyone and didn’t think too much of their status. Knoth also had some of the same questions about killing people in the ranch but his ‘god’ told him to shut up. And, then he thought it was necessary to ensure Temple Gate was a good place and a pure place. Joy had at times sat next to Knoth, caressed him here and there, at her father and mother’s instructions when she was a younger teen. Knoth had taken interest only once or twice. She did have sex with him but then Knoth didn’t marry her or she couldn’t fuck anymore so she was miserable until Corgan Knoth decided to marry her. She felt she did her family proud. She was also proud that she did better than her sister Jasper was, what she felt, was ever going to do. Jasper was a bit thinner than her and had considerably pleasant features. She was blooming at the age of ten when it was decided to kill her off. Joy was a bit happy. Like Corgan she had been pretty jealous of her sibling. So, she accepted the death. It was the logical consequence for her and she felt God was giving her a blessing for her devotion.

 

Now, Marta was here.

 

This was not a good sign because Marta was witness-judge-executioner — the sledgehammer of The Testament of New Ezekiel; the Sentinel and Knoth’s Eye.

 

Why would Marta come into one of Knoth’s son’s houses? Didn’t she know her place? She was as much as a keeper of order, like Paul, but seconded to Knoth’s kin, thought Joy Penfold, as she angrily twisted Mark’s arm. The small child had been bawling. And, now seemed traumatised and unresponsive. Though Mark defiantly looked at his mother after a while. Marta recognised that emotion. It was hate.

 

“You stink you little bastard!” Joy was unforgiving to the now red marked and tear stained child, “Go and change!”

 

But Mark nodded his head. He was saying “no” to which Joy slapped him again and again. He was slowly crying but he resolved to be defiant. Something about him, reminded Marta of Helen. Defiant till the end.

 

“Why don’t you just help him change!” Marta snapped at Joy, making the other woman stare at her violently.

 

“This is my house Marta Hawthorne! Don’t forget I am the wife of Corgan Knoth!” Joy was furious and looked to Corgan for support, who didn’t seem to give a damn and was staring at the food she had prepared and was thinking what the hell Marta wanted and when she would leave.

 

“I don’t give a fuck about a bastard born’s whore.” Marta says this with menace and it is only then Corgan looks up and looks mad, “I want you to leave and change the child. I need to talk to your fuck of a yolkmate.”

 

“Marta!” Corgan looked at her with utter hatred, “I am the butcher of The Testament of New Ezekiel! I am a saint in my father’s house! You do well to respect me!”

 

“Bitch got her tongue loose!” Joy was dragging Marta.

 

Though she didn’t expect to be feeling the wet puddle on her face.

 

Marta had given her one push hard and she fell down.

 

Mark started laughing at his own mother.

 

Corgan looked distressed, “Marta!”

 

“Now, you have something to do yourself.” Marta looked dangerously at Joy, who now whimpered, “Get the fuck out. Change and come in place with your runt. I need to talk to your yolkmate. You need to be present too, if you want.”

 

Joy got up and first cleaned the what was left of the urine with a rag. Marta winked at Mark who smiled a wide smile at her as though he was seeing his saviour. Joy grabbed him and took him out though she had to endure her son’s laughing for a bit.

 

“Marta, what the hell is the matter with ye?!” Corgan was so surprised at her behaviour, “I would see to it that my father —“

 

“Your father knows I am here and I have discussed this with Papa.” She instinctively used the paternal gesture and saw Corgan glare a bit, she was aware of his jealousies of being ‘head butcher’ and not Sentinel of The Testament of New Ezekiel. “I meant it when I insulted you.” She actually pointed her now nicely ironed and chained pickaxe with a spiked pummel at its hilt, it talked a lot about an androgynous body, her weapon emulated her silhouette and shape nicely, “You, bastard born. Do you think that I would listen to a child of Knoth when Papa is still around? He is the Modern Ezekiel. Not you. I would deftly punish anyone who tries to stain Temple Gate. Anyone. I am Knoth’s eye. I am the Sentinel.”

 

“Bloody Murder!” Corgan raised his hands up in anger and frustration, “Woman, don’t forget yer place —“

 

“I told you my place, _Man_.” Corgan shut his mouth as he felt the pick axe’s vertical point come closer to his chest, he gulped and looked at the deadly eyes of Marta’s Hawthorne, “Will you cooperate?”

 

“Alright, Marta.” Now he raised his hands as a form of white flag, an angel spread out in snow, if angels were bloody ugly looking masses, he looked nervous, Marta had a desire to kill him where he stood, though an interrogation was in order; a quick summit bypassing confession, “What do ye want?”

 

She hitched up her pickaxe and looked and could hear Joy coming back. Then she looked back from that direction to Corgan again, “Is it true, that you have with you some female and male children?”

 

Corgan looked confused, or _acted_ confused, either way he looked a bit distressed, “Uh, children?”

 

“Yes, children.” Marta repeated, though her face clearly showed she didn’t want to, “Do you have any children with you?”

 

“Aside my own stock her and with my sister Ruth…” The last part was heard by a Joy Penfold when she came in, she looked visibly angry at that part, “I don’t have any children, Marta. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 

“And, he hopes to put the blade into Susan and Samuel soon.” Joy commented. She did not wish his other children survive if Ruby and Peter died. Just yesterday, she had heard them laugh and sing. She had sun her eldest Ruby, a lullaby. Ruby would still love her singing. She had been singing to her when she had put the blade. She had killed Ruby in the house. For some reason, she knew that it was the best way for her daughter to go. Peter had defecated in his own pants when he saw his mother take the knife she usually used to cut bread on his sister’s throat. Ruby had been just telling that she wanted to sing along with her mother. And, her mother had told her to sing along. Ruby sang a bit when her mother got out the blade. She had stated, her last sentence on Earth, that she wanted to sing like her mother when she grew up. She looked at the mother and felt the blade before seeing it. Ruby looked accusatory to her mother. She had struggled for a while, trying to push her mother away, as blood came out from her mouth and she was trying to stop her mother from cutting in as she gargled on her own blood and looked, finally angrily at her mother. Her last actions were to cake her mother’s face with her blood and spit on her a bloody, wet spit. Her eyes were filled with anger. Until, they were no longer eyes, but blank.

 

Joy felt surprised by the sudden attack of bloody spit but she had cradled her daughter singing to her and then saying, “I’ll see you in heaven. You are my favourite. I will make sure your funeral clothes are the best and you get a beautiful casket engraved with wildflowers. You were always the best child of mine.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead and then she called out, “Peter!” But Peter was already downstairs trying to escape the house. She could hear him trying to open the deadbolt, “Peter, Mama loves you. Like Mama loves your sister.” By this time, Mark had sat transfixed on the breakfast table. Just yesterday, his sister had teased him and wrestled with him. Peter had run down screaming for him to move because he said Mama was becoming like the others. The children all believed that their parents were taken over by some of the ghosts they saw move around after the white light had come out with that awful noise.

 

They couldn’t or _wouldn’t_ agree that their parents were killing them because God told them. God wasn’t like that. They felt it. It had to be the light.

 

Julianna had written to her Mom to not let the school teacher kill her, but Miss Bishop, older now and still the school teacher, had to kill little Julianna.

 

Mark could not scream seeing his mother caked in blood. Her eyes wide and she got Peter as he was trying to escape. “Now, Peter.” She was trying to be gentle, “We are going to go away. Your Papa is waiting with your grandfather. And Deacon Val is also with them. He said because you were his first boy child so he wanted there to be singing while you ascend.”

 

“Fucking whore!” The little boy shocked his mother with that language, “You are a whore to the beast! Mark run! You killed my sister! You killed my sister! You are a demon! You can’t be our mother!”

 

“Now, Peter. Tell God, we are good okay.” She smiled and grabbed him harder, “Mark, don’t worry. I will be back soon with your father. We are going to have feast. Trust me, if things go well, you and your Papa and I are going to eat well tonight. You should come along after you have eaten breakfast.” The young child had noticed the omission of his brother and sister in the plural ‘we’ his mother stated. When he went upstairs, he saw his sister, bleeding out and making their shared bedroom a lake. He walked onto the blood and brought his handkerchief and pressed it to her throat, silently. The handkerchief with soft blue and orange flowers turned redder until nothing remained of it but red.

 

The young boy had cradled his sister; singing her favourite song that their mother used to sing to them and she had loved.

 

By that night, Mark had either been too traumatised to speak or laughing now and then or crying asking for his siblings. He had noticed that Peter was not with them when they had come back home. Then, Corgan has carried, rather carelessly, Ruby’s dead body, to which he decided to show a little more effort.

 

“Oh, shut up you whore!” Corgan yelled at his wife, “You keep to yer kids and Ruth and I will keep to ours.”

 

Joy looked ashen but she kept quiet. Mark just looked at the chairs at the dinner table that would be empty tonight. He wasn’t crying anymore. Neither had he been talking the whole day. Marta had seen this in the children who were left behind to be killed later. They always looked so hollowed out like vultures had even done away with them. Their eyes looked downcast more so than a storm simmering with clouds nearby. They also didn’t seem to also attend school and often even stopped playing games. They would at times refuse to say their prayers and at times stop eating. Marta didn’t like the signs. She wished the antichrist was not within children. She wished she could help the children at times alongside Val, who did all they could to help them, and seemed to not always talk with Marta, telling her that their lives is so much for these children now and their love seems to echo now and then. Marta did not like excessiveness. She need chastise Val that being too loving to the children would make it harder on them because they would find it harder to leave. But Val stated if Marta wanted them to die. Marta answered she didn’t know.

 

That was the truth, she didn’t know.

 

She knew it was part of the gospels of Knoth, was always told to done so, but she didn’t understand, like her mother had once questioned, how the antichrist could come out of a prophet. But she also didn’t understand why God didn’t numb these children before seeing them being sent off. They didn’t look numb after witnessing friends die; they looked destroyed. She didn’t get these things. The only way she could avoid that shadow laughing at her and calling her hypocrite or things of imperfect faith was to be The Sentinel. At least, she didn’t have to kill the children.

 

“Are you sure?” Marta looked at him with another glare.

 

“What is this about, Marta?” Joy exasperated, looked at her, “We were going to eat a feast.” Then she motioned to Mark, “My young boy has eaten the whole day. I don’t know why, but he doesn’t seem interested. I even made him juice today. And flavoured rice.” Then looking at Mark, “You have much to eat today, your sister and brother aren’t around.”

 

Marta almost chocked. For some reason, that sounded really disgusting to her, “Corgan!” She yelled to shut out that blabbering imbecile of a mother, “Did you, get rid of Fanny Clegg and two of the younger Clegg boys as you were supposed to?”

 

“Well, what do you mean, of course I did!” Corgan looked angry, “Listen, Marta —“

 

“And did you bury them properly?” Marta kept on questioning.

 

“This was months or over a year ago! Of course, I did!” Corgan was bursting with anger, “Marta, what the hell is this about?”

 

“Well, this is about Ruby.” Marta speaks her name carefully, like a soft cotton, picked gently. She couldn’t have said it any other way.

 

“Ruby, my Ruby?” Joy looked on suspiciously.

 

“Don’t say that!” Mark’s voice was so shrill and loud that it shocked the adults, “If she was yer Ruby, why kill her Mama, Mama, you kilt her! She was good! She was good! Now you wants kilt Susie and Sammy! Why Mama?! Why Papa?!”

 

“Oh, hush now you little bastard!” Joy grabbed him, “Having you started reading in school? You sister and brother could have been the Enemy! Don’t be stupid!”

 

“Keep that noise down!” Corgan bellowed to Joy and Mark, “What about Ruby?”

 

Marta was feeling a bit dizzy. Hearing that child talk like that. She had wanted to avoid this. She didn’t know why but she couldn’t take this. Perhaps, her faith had been imperfect as Knoth sometimes told her.

 

“Ruby said she saw Fanny Clegg in your seller down. And also, two or three boys. One of them Clegg and the other I think a Penfold, your cousin,” she distastefully motioned towards Joy, “And, she said she sometimes got them food and provisions.” Marta now looked at Corgan, his expression looked a bit tight, too neutral, “Is this true Corgan Knoth?” She intentionally used his last name, “Have you defied The Testament of New Ezekiel and your father. Did you not kill the children as you were supposed to? As you told Papa Knoth? Then what have you been doing with them?”

 

“Well, Fanny’s not really a kid.” Corgan snorted, “She got her blood covenant. She has the blood. And those two or three boys were not kids either. Well, one of ‘em was I think twelve. The other was about Fanny’s age.” Then snickering, “You gonna believe what my kid told you. She is dead. Dead children tell no tales. If she was here I would have whupped her for lying on her Papa.”

 

“There is only one problem.” Marta raised her pickaxe, a tad bit higher.

 

“And, what’s that?” Corgan gave her a challenging look.

 

“You are using _present_ tense to refer to Fanny.” Marta challenged more intensely and she could see Corgan look frightened, and she enjoyed it, and Joy looked confused, “Not to mention,” she looked down, “Your seller been making some soft thudding noises under my feet.”

 

And without a second to waste, Marta raised her pickaxe and she could hear the scream, cowardly one from Corgan and a shocked one from Joy (an excited cry from Mark), and slammed it down, a bit away from her feet and down again and again. The floorboards came apart, ripped by her storm and she saw one of the children had been asleep, the other had been making the noise, they were all muffled and Marta recognised Fanny Clegg. She looked a lot like the Clegg-son who was also a butcher. She looked dangerously at Corgan, “Get them out, _now_.”

 

Corgan could only tremble and push Joy to help him take out the kids, “It’s…” he picked up a very emotionless and numb Fanny, “Not, what it seems. I am faithful I tells ya.”

 

Marta took away Fanny from him and ungagged her, “Fanny?” The young girl didn’t respond. She looked about thirteen or fourteen.

 

One of the male kids started screaming, “I don’t wanna go back! I don’t wanna be naked and touched! I don’t want his pals to do things to me anymore!”

 

Everyone was dead quiet except the boy who was screaming.

 

And, then Marta knew.

 

She could smell the blood and she looked at the almost nothing Fanny was wearing. And, she knew.

 

“So, you been doing that.” Marta looked disgusted.

 

Joy looked at her husband for an explanation but shouted, “Don’t look at me!” Then looked at Marta, “My father has his whores! I got mine!”

 

“You told your father you would kill them.” Marta questioned.

 

“Well, I would eventually. Fanny looks sick now than she did a year ago.” Corgan was trying to chuckle, “Look, Marta, it’s okay —“

 

But Of course, Marta didn’t think it was okay.

 

She said to herself she was doing this as The Sentinel.

 

However, she was enraged for other reasons.

 

She kicked Corgan and he hit one of the foundations of the house and then she drove the spiked pummel on his thigh, “This is your faithfulness! You told Papa you were gonna do what was needed! You good for nothing whore!”  Digging it deeper, “You are to see your father, first thing in the morning! And, explain yourself!”

 

It was then as she held a crying Corgan who was nodding that she heard the boy stop screaming and there was a scramble of feet.

 

Marta looked around and saw that Joy had killed the boy that had been screaming. The other two had just ran. Fanny started walking slowly outside and was going in the way of the darkness.

 

“See, I…” Joy looked on, “I did some of his task already. Corgan will be there. Now, Marta, let us handle this. It’s been a long day.”

 

Mark looked at the dead boy. He caressed his hair and starting singing a lullaby, in fact, his sister and his favourite one:

 

“All rise All rise, to the delight  
that shakes even the night  
let God hear our prayers  
let the birds take them as wayfarers  
let the light that sings a song  
know we can’t do wrong  
Temple Gate is where we belong  
Our hearts for love of God is strong  
let the astray sit on the waters  
we will know the antichrist daughters  
All rise All rise, to the height  
of heavenly night, and the day that speaks right.”

 

His pronunciation was somewhat mangled but he had sung the song along so much that he knew most of the words. His voice was calm and tender.

 

Marta left Corgan bleeding to be tended to his wife. He saw that the boys were captured by Phineas and Clegg-son, alongside other butchers. They were pleading to Paul to let them go but Paul seemed to be carrying sharpened knives.

 

Yet, where was Fanny?  
  
Marta looked on and saw rustling the tall grass and she slowly walked in that direction. She walked slowly only to come out to utter darkness. She saw Fanny walking as though in a trance, as though she was somnambulistic. “Fanny!” Marta cried out, she didn’t know what to do, she could only imagine what has been happening to her all the time, and her blood ran cold each time she thought of it.

 

Fanny looked around only once and said something.

 

Marta heard it and stopped.

 

Fanny kept on walking.

 

It took some time for Marta to regain her bearings. But by then Fanny Clegg was gone. She decided perhaps this was for the best. So, she holstered her pickaxe by placing it languidly amongst her shoulder and carried on. After that ruckus, there was now peace. Marta was walking along, incense burning. She could see some people pull down the shutters when they saw her. It was creeping to around eleven o’clock at night. People would be either praying, eating a late dinner or just reading and relaxing with their family. She passed some hooded executioners while she was walking around Central Town Square who had been carrying fire wood for their own hearth. Those boys lived together as the female population has gone down in recent years. She could hear one of the pious woman read out her prayers "Rejoice! Revel in the ecstasy of the Lord! The sins of Zion are bound up and all debts to God come due. There is wailing, there is pain, there is blood, but it is joyous all, for we…are in the sorrows of a travailing woman, from this arbor is the place of the breaking forth of yes, the children of hell, but also the opportunity of our salvation. For God is great and Knoth is his prophet, and Knoth will ransom us from the power of the grave. Knoth will redeem us from death, for even redemption cannot be hid from the split eye.  We are robed in the crimson glory of revelation." The woman looked a bit scared when she saw Marta pass by and just raise her arms wide as though she was welcoming an angel and continued on with her prayer.

 

Marta walked up the small hilly area and kept on going up. One of the houses were boarded. She looked into the boarded door; a crack in the nails has been there and one of the boards were loose. She would know as she had loosened it. She got inside the house. It felt more home to at times than her home; was her second home of sorts. It was completely dark inside. She just looked at the discared kitchen utensils and took some water that she knew she had kept there and was fresh. There was dried blood on the floor that hadn’t been cleaned. She passed it and went upstairs. She lit a small candle. She looked at the bed she had made some days ago and looked at the books that were not hers. She took one of them. She opened it and read to herself one of the poems:

 

“Tyger Tyger, burning bright, 

In the forests of the night; 

What immortal hand or eye, 

Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 

 

In what distant deeps or skies. 

Burnt the fire of thine eyes? 

On what wings dare he aspire? 

What the hand, dare seize the fire? 

 

And what shoulder, & what art, 

Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 

And when thy heart began to beat, 

What dread hand? & what dread feet? 

 

What the hammer? what the chain, 

In what furnace was thy brain? 

What the anvil? what dread grasp, 

Dare its deadly terrors clasp! 

 

When the stars threw down their spears 

And water'd heaven with their tears: 

Did he smile his work to see? 

Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 

 

Tyger Tyger burning bright, 

In the forests of the night: 

What immortal hand or eye, 

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?”

 

She could see the moon was out. Full and bright, as succulent as a night porridge to be eaten. And she felt both voracious of a tiger and meek like it when it was underfed. She read the poem again. And, she read it a third time. She was sitting on the floor not on the chair and table, on a snug carpet that was weaved by the owner of the house himself. Whom she had visited once or twice, now that he was away. Never to return to Temple Gate.

 

She remembered him smiling and saying; “Well, Marta. I guess this is it, huh? We had some good times. Remember me, okay.” And she had told him she would come to visit him. Almost chasing after him, it had been years ago. Well around four years, when the sickness first started appearing so ravenously.

 

Marta started sobbing; it just came to her and she just could not do anything about it. Then she started crying. Crying very deeply. She just couldn’t control herself. She wanted to. But she couldn’t. Though she was trying really hard to she was having a lot of trouble.

 

She was in Thaddeus’s house. Who had become one of the first of the Scalled. Her childhood friend. She had been thinking about her childhood. How now everyone she knew was gone. Her parents, Helen, Asher, Thad. How Simeon may be dead or not she doesn’t know. Paul was still roaming around smarting his bruise for not being chief deacon. How she had watched the deaths of so many children. And, she wondered for what? Even if they were to be there in paradise, why is she facing such an earthly hell now? She couldn’t understand. She also didn’t know how and why her faith was considered imperfect. She even attacked Knoth’s son today when she saw him doing something that was not part of who and what they were. Had Joy had known? Perhaps not. Perhaps she had heard the rumours too and decided not to investigate much. She was fine as Corgan’s wife and even if she didn’t like his unfaithfulness, as shown how she reacted to Ruth Pannet’s children, she seemed to try to tolerate him. She had seen Corgan leave his house limping after having eaten their dinner. Probably, gone to see his daughter Maryanne and Ruth. She could hear Joy screaming after him how ungrateful he was and why couldn’t he be happy with her. Marta kept on sobbing and crying. She felt alone. Even with Knoth around she felt so alone. She was now a woman in her 40s. Being fourteenth and being anointed as the Sentinel seemed like yesterday to her. It felt if she could reach out and time was tangible she could pluck out the year as feathers and touch the breast of her young self with its soul there. She didn’t know why she was so upset. But she was. And, she could see the candle dimming as she was falling asleep, sobbing…

 

… and, she remembered what she heard Fanny state: “There is no God here. I am leaving.”

 

 

 


	6. Every Man That Hath A Ear, So He May Leadeth In Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, compared to the last chapter, this one isn't morbid as anything. 
> 
> It introduces Val! =D
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy 
> 
> Also, I am dedicating this chap to Madame_Tentacle who has been so kind enough to read and review every chapter =)

 

**Every Man That Hath A Ear, So He May Leadeth In Captivity**

 

There had been a certain animosity between Vincent Hawthorne and Sullivan Knoth. There had been friendship before; a close-knit one. Now, after the murder of Albert Lane things were becoming tricky. It was not if Vincent liked Albert Lane, for he didn’t. It was the circumstances to his killing that made Vincent have his suspicions on Knoth. Only a few months ago, he had pretty much boarded up and burned many, if not all possessions of the Clarences, and it wasn’t necessarily something that was to be done. The Clarences had been loyal for such a long time. To call them to lunch and then have executioners ready to kill them was the sort of thing that was unpleasant.

 

Marta was going to be fifteen. She seemed to take her job as sentinel pretty seriously. She would be alert and cautious, she would burn more incense in her short lamp like mechanism on her pickaxe that glowed, as though humming a hymn, as she walked like a tiger in the night. Asher seemed only slightly enthused at the prospect of her becoming The Sentinel, Thaddeus was over eager: “Wow, one of our own! The Sentinel to The Testament of New Ezekiel!” The looking at Paul passing by Thad screamed, “Hey Mr. Chief Deacon! Want to corroborate with The Sentinel over here?!”

 

Paul looked like a skin cat these days. He didn’t look right. It seemed for some days he had either trouble eating or they could see him stuffing his face to nonexistence. Marta did feel bad for him. However, the Mills had stopped acting arrogantly. There were some families who went and egged the Mills house, many of Petunia’s pies had been stolen, pies she was known to craft and people would want to eat and she had at times haughtily denied, she had also stopped up keeping the house, it wasn’t always immaculate but now there was a wildness to the weeds there, the talk grass choked the house by flanking on its sides. Mathew did try to cut them off. Now he was afraid to ask his wife, Petunia, anything. She was usually in a foul mood.

 

 She took ate less and did not seem to be taking care of their children much. She would lounge around and look angrily at Mathew; they had almost non-existent physical relationship, a sexual one also at that. If Mathew tried to tell anything she would even hit him on his pans with a frying pan. Or, slap or punch him hard. Mathew now knew how strong his wife was. How adamant and determined she was. He was now afraid of her. There were times when Petunia didn’t feed him but made him sit around when their children sat around and ate with her. If Marcus, the unruly one, tried to help his father, Petunia would smack the little bastard. She did not have Mark yet then. This would be a second Mark to be killed and Marta would later think if this name was cursed in Temple Gate. About Petunia’s behaviour, this was the same way Mathew had treated her when Paul was in favour to be the next chief deacon after Albert Lane. Marta knew he deserve it so she wasn’t about to start feeling sorry for him. Rosemary stated that Petunia was completely devastated. Yes, she was happy she had freedom now, yet the disrespect from some of the families and the fact she was so much lower in rank now that even the Ordishes sometimes laughed at her got her enraged and depressed.

 

Paul looked at them angrily before looking frightened like an animal caught in a storm and just left. “What’s the matter, Mills?!” Thad called back, “Where are your boys now? The ones you were bullying us with? You stupid bastard you deserved what you got!”

 

“Oh, c’mon Thad, that's enough.” Asher pointed out deftly with a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t be like that. Don’t be like him.”

 

“Asher is right Glad.” Marta spoke softly, “No need to rub it in his face all the time.”

 

“Alright, but you can’t say he doesn’t completely deserve it.” This time he looked prominently at Marta, “The way he treated you should be reason enough.”

 

“Yes, but there is a word called ‘enough’ which suggests a limit,” Marta smiled and Asher smiled at her statement, and Thaddeus rubbed his head, “Perhaps, Paul is an excessive runt but we don’t really need to follow his example as it is such a poor one.” Marta chuckled but then looked up, she seemed to be addressing the sky, though it wasn’t necessarily her thinking a loud, “My Mama says that Petunia Mills is going through another problem. The fact she has lost respect on so many of the other families. It is not right.” She looked at them now, “I don’t think it is right. I don’t think Petunia Mills deserve that. It isn’t seemingly an action of good faith.”

 

“And, you think Sullivan Knoth denouncing them publicly was, Marta?” Asher pointed out the events with a clarity.

 

“No.” Marta acknowledged, “I think Papa Knoth may have had a reason. But, I wished he handled it better. I mean,” Marta didn’t know if she should voice her doubts like this, “It did seem strange. He had seemed happy with the Mills, so I don’t know what changed his mind. Perhaps, there was a reason there.”

 

“There was no reason.” Asher admitted, surprising both Thaddeus and Marta, “He just did what he wanted because we have given him power to do that. We are not given a choice to act our own way. I am not saying we would have elected Mills. Mills may have been the last family we would have elected. But,” Asher looked so confident that it actually worried Thad and Marta, “We probably wouldn’t have chosen Val and the Ordishes. There is no reason to choose Val on the account of their mixed gender. I find that qualification disconcerting at best.” Asher had always been eloquent and well spoken. When Marta thought about it, he had most of the powers needed of a chief deacon. Though, he deserved no part of that. She had always figured he had never been happy with The Testament of New Ezekiel. It seemed he was more interested in the world outside. Frankly, so was Helen. Frankly, so was she. To deny that she never had an inkling, a scratch on her arm and heart to once again have an ice-cream or to look at a television set, would be a lie. It would also be a lie if she denied she missed going to school and learning. She remembered universities. She really would have liked to have attended one.

 

“Uh, don’t know if you should be mouthing about like that, Asher,” Thad just hinted on it, “You know if Paul caught you talking like that, it’s be like the saviour’s wedding supper for him and he would be really happy to have you cast out.”

 

“But surely,” Marta spoke, “There has to be a reason.”

 

“What reason would there be?” Asher commented, “If we look at the Mills’s arrogance, who’s to say the Ordishes would not act arrogant? And, the Mills had acted haughty all this time and Knoth has never censured them on it.” Asher grimaced and gave a sneer as though he wanted to hurl a rock at Knoth, “Face it. Knoth is as whimsical as a child. I don’t even know that Val is qualified or not to be chief deacon.”

 

“I don’t understand how you are born a girl and become a boy later on…” Thad scratched his head and looked at Marta, “Marta, ye is tall. Are you sure you are not as Val?”

 

“I think I am sure.” Marta rubbed her head and smiled.

 

“Val isn’t completely a boy.” Asher chimed in, then looked at Marta, “Your father stated he is intersex which would mean he is not completely how we are boys and girls, right?”

 

“I suppose so.” Marta nodded.

 

“I didn’t know there were other ways to be girls and boys, that you could also be _both_.” Thad looked a bit excited, “I guess God does work in mysterious ways.”

 

Marta and them had a small laugh. It did seem nice that a certainty was not completely a certainty. After all, people’s fates seem so airtight and sealed than an anomaly around here was like a zephyr in a hothouse. Knoth had not neatly anticipated that some of the girls and boys would start questioning some of the rules so Lucas and Vincent were called on a recent sermon, albeit a bit reluctantly, to denounce some of the accusations of strange play saying that girls are girls and must maintain their blood covenant and boys will be boys and should not desire a blood covenant. Val’s was a miracle of the Lord and should be treated as such. Some of the girls in class wondered if they really had a blood covenant to begin with. Knoth did not have the expertise of sexuality nor religion, quite frankly. One day, some of the truly blessed would know their ‘god’ had been Murkoff all along and Murkoff wanted the division of labour between the men and the women to conduct their experiments. After all, Val would not necessarily be a cisgendered boy or girl, so the questions of the people were not necessarily erroneous. A simple, Val was not cisgendered would probably have met as a good and calmer answer. Yet, Knoth would get enraged and not go for the calmer route.

 

“Though, is Papa Knoth really whimsical?” Marta noticed that Asher didn’t always use the patronym of ‘Papa’ with Knoth’s name; in fact, he seemed to resist it in most conversations, “We can’t be sure about that. Perhaps, if I ask him? Then he can give a reason.”

 

“You can believe what you like Marta,” Asher seemed frustrated, “But I believe Knoth is whimsical.”

 

“I believe you are stubborn at not calling him ‘Papa’,” Marta looked exasperated as well, “But I don’t rub it in your face.”

 

“Hey, you two.” Thad warned.

 

“C’mon Marta,” Asher looked adamant, “Are you just going to protect him because you are now The Sentinel?” he looked incredulously at her, “I mean, you know what he did was wrong.”

 

“I am not saying he didn’t — but, I just wanna hear an explanation.” Marta was adamant too.

 

“Is there any reason the Ordishes are a good choice?” Asher asked, “We have our own wits we can gather, we can question it, can’t we? But we are not allowed to question anything here.”

 

Marta fell silent at this. She couldn’t deny what Asher was saying was entirely wrong. They couldn’t question much around here. Would Marta be able to question her role as The Sentinel? She highly doubted it. But, there had to be a reason, right? Or, she _desperately_ wanted there to be a reason. After all, she didn’t know what she could do if there wasn’t. It would seem inane and even insane then publicly humiliating the Mills. Why would anyone in their right mind do that? Not knowing she answered her own question. That Knoth was not in his right mind ever since he had started becoming indoctrinated by the signals.

 

“I agree it seems wrong.” Marta nodded, calming down that Asher also relaxed and seemed apologetic at snapping at her as well as she did for snapping at him, “But, saying he is whimsical, alone. It feels you want fairness. Shouldn’t it also be fair, if I ask him? And, get him to explain?”

 

To this Asher had to nod. “I agree. I can’t just bite off his head on an assumption.”

 

“Well, all you two have to do is kiss and make up.” Thad chimed in making both of them look at them and blush at him and each other, “Or,” Thad looked at Marta, “You can just kiss Helen. And, I bet that would be sweet too.”

 

Marta smiled slightly at this comment but Asher didn’t. He looked sort of worried or slightly _jealous_ at Marta. Then he smiled and shrugged too.

 

“Look, here comes Helen now. Hey Helen we made fun of Paul Mills.” Thad talked as Helen came in with a bucket of flowers and some fruits. “What ye got there, gonna make some pies and put some flowers in there too?”

 

Helen could infuse pies or put fruits and edible flowers in them. She was a pie connoisseur. She also knew how to make her own assortment of cheese cakes made from goat and cow cheese with sprinkles of roses and pansies. She was an expert in cooking and she had taught some of her recipes to Marta as well who knew which wild flowers could be used as teas or to put them into cooking. Asher actually learned some things too though boys were usually discouraged to learn cooking in Temple Gate, calling it ‘woman’s work.’ She also was cultivating some roses. It was hard to cultivate them here with the weird hot and cold climate of the desert and with the soil so ill for it. But, when she did get a good batch she would make rose juices for people and also pies smoked with some parts of rose petal for scent or edible.

 

“Well, I am sure he deserved it.” Helen laughed, “Why do you two look so gloomy?” Then she brought out Heliotrope, “Here you go Marta,” she winked, “Give this flower to Asher as you do and you guys will become right as rain again.”

 

Asher had to blush while Thad just brought out his tongue flirtingly.

 

“Oh, c’mon, Helen.” Marta looked at her friend, she had grown quite beautiful in a year, she had curves and bigger breasts within a year and she noticed some of the males, even some females, looked at covetously. She couldn’t say she was fully jealous. Males also, even if they didn’t want to admit it, looked at her too — with her long limbs, adequate breasts and muscular mass. Even if Helen was conveniently pretty she was almost inconveniently so. Also, she had fuller breasts than Helen. Helen’s were two sizes smaller than hers. She didn’t hair fair light brown hair like Helen or her skin that seemed warmed gently under the sun or her awesome more rounded curves. Yet, she had longer limbs and muscle, more accentuated breasts. She didn’t think too much on it. She knew males would prefer Helen more around here and she took pride in that her love — yes, her _love_ — was so coveted. Not to mention, some of the girls would ‘accidentally’ brush up against Helen, or touch her loose scarf around her head or even trail at her shoulders when she wasn’t wearing her scarf. She even saw Thad once or twice flirt with Helen.

 

Though, she was surprised to see Asher so normal in front of Helen. It was more like he treated her as a friend and a rival than a figure of beauty. Even when Helen was around, she saw Asher pay more attention to her. His eyes just pausing a moment on her limbs or face or breasts. Well, wasn’t Asher also her _love_? She felt he was too. This was confusing. But, it seems she had _two_ loves. And, they both seemed aware of it. And, as there had no promises being made it seemed they both wanted to have _fun_ with her.

 

That thought actually made her blush.

 

“What c’mon?” Helen laughed, “You shouldn’t be mad at Asher, Marta. He is one of the decent ones you know.” Then looking and blowing raspberries at Thad, “And, you aren’t!’

 

“Boohoo, cry me a river!” Thad blew them back, “I didn’t get top rating on Helen’s Handsome List.” Then with more seriousness, “We are just talking about Val.”

 

“Oh, you mean the person who was once a girl, but now is a boy.” Looking mischievously at Marta, “That sounds exciting, huh?”

 

Marta had to smile back. And, Asher smiled too. For a moment, he looked at Marta and Marta had to see him as if he was contemplating something mischievous as Helen.

 

“Exciting. But also, confusing to some people.” Thad discerned, “There are not used to intestate people.”

 

“You mean _intersex_.” Asher corrected.

 

“Oh, yeah, that too.” Thad winked.

 

“I don’t think it’s good talking about it.” Helen shrugged, “Lois and Anabelle got into a fight on it over dinner and our Papa looked so mad that he seemed he was going to walk away from the table. Our Mama told us to stop the fighting.”

 

“What was the fighting about?” Asher asked.

 

“Oh, Lois was eating the shit of Knoth as though it was the best food ever saying that she agreed on Val becoming the chief deacon candidate as our father can fill out as he is getting older. Annabelle said that they didn’t know Val so well for this job and then Lois was going on about how Val is her friend and she should be happy for him. Well, Annabelle shouted that she was a bastard so what she would know. And, they were at it. Until, Mama had to send Annabelle to her room without dinner to which Lois looked happy but Mama told Lois not to be a smug bastard which made Lois quiet. Annabelle was screaming that being Knoth’s daughter was nothing. That she had to kiss her other Papa like Mama kissed Papa and that looked gross. It don’t matter though. Lois called Mama and Papa names, saying she would tell Knoth about them. To which, Mama said for her angrily to get lost and that drama queen Lois left in tears. You can see how much of a haughty whore Lois is becoming being Knoth’s daughter. I swear sometime she puts on more airs than that grandchild, Maryanne Knoth.”

 

Everyone became a bit quiet. For some reason, Knoth’s incestuous habits made all of them, even Marta a bit uncomfortable.

 

“I don’t understand does she want a prize for Knoth’s daughter?” Thad interjected with a smirk, breaking the pause and dissipating the discomfort. Thaddeus had that quality. Marta and the other knew this about him and looked at him with appreciation. “Or,” Thad continued, “Does she wanna a prize for furrowing her own daddy?”

 

Marta burst out laughing. It sounded pretty funny. Though Marta looked at Helen affectionately, “You and Asher should try calling him Papa Knoth at times. You both are being too resistant.”

 

They both nodded good humouredly.

 

“I just call him Grandpapa Knoth. Though, I am also told to call him Papa.”

 

Young Maryanne Knoth, deep brown haired and blue-eyed came along with blue-eyed and Blonde Val Ordish. Their laughter and merriment ended quickly as Thad looked at the company sceptically. Asher became observant but seemingly indifferent (a skill of his) and Helen looked annoyed, “What do ye brats want?” Marta looked at her reproaching. It wouldn’t look good for her to be being mean to Knoth’s granddaughter and future chief deacon. Marta looked at _him_. _He_ looked kind of uncomfortable in the new trousers. Though Marta had saw him taking a liking to them earlier, a year ago, when he came across school first wearing his new clothes right now he looked, almost _jaded_.

 

“Well, at least you are not a bore as that slutty sister of yours, Lois.” There seemed to be some understanding between Helen and Maryanne and Marta remembered that Annabelle was also their friend, “Anyway, _this_ brat,” pointing towards Val Ordish, “wanted a word. Not really me, by the way,” she now was referring to Helen, “You should tell Annabelle she can always get dinner at our house if Lois is being a pain and she can’t eat properly because of her.”

 

“Did Annabelle talk already about this in school?” Helen smirked.

 

“Oh yeah, cursed up a storm.” Maryanne laughed, “It was entertaining. That sister of yours is a good apple.”

 

“That she is.” Helen agreed.

 

“Actually.” Seven year Val Ordish looked at Marta, their eyes a cool blue to Marta’s paler hue, and she or he seemed well spoken, Marta knew that Val was taking extra classes now with June Bishop and working with more materials than they did. Yet, organically, Val had a pace that suited their future roll, they could take elegant slow steps — something one day Blake Langermann would also see. “I wish to speak to Marta Hawthorne.”

 

“About what?” Thad asked. Asher seemed to already know what their answer was going to be.

 

“It’s a personal matter.” Val smiled at Marta, “As you are what my Papa called, a partner, or call-league, yes, call-league. I wish to speak to you. In private.”

 

“Alright.” Marta bid goodbye to her friends and started walking with Val.

 

Marta didn’t know what Val had to say to her. It felt somewhat strange. Val had not really spoke to her much before. When he had been a she, he had looked at her with admiration. There hadn’t ever been a coarse word towards her from him. Some of the younger children made fun of her height — they admired her strength and found her customised pickaxe interesting and attractive. She had once gotten flowers from a twelve-year old who had said she looked as beautiful as twilight coating on snow. She was impressed by his compliment.

 

Val was a different case. They had never been cruel Marta. Rather, like Maryanne and Annabelle, they had been slightly mischievous. However, Val had attempted to talk to her at times, speaking gently and trying to be friends. It was just he got intimidated by Helen and the others that Marta was usually cloistered around. Yet, whenever Val found her alone they would easily come and talk to them. Over the last year, conversations had been limited ever since Val got promoted to the future chief deacon. They had always been studying. So much so Marta could see a sense of weariness on Val — a sense of weariness that had once washed over Paul Mills now had migrated to this young one’s face. Though Val seemed less vainglorious about all about it. They seemed cautious and more patient than Paul.

 

This, Marta took, as a very good sign.

 

Temple Gate needed someone of an even temperament.

 

Ever since Albert Lane’s execution people had had mixed feelings over his death. Many said it was mandatory as Ruth Ibis was married and Albert was chief deacon so there was little question that he was not acting according to the conduct he was supposed to follow. Some stated that capital punishment like that was a bit wearisome and that Albert Lane should have feared excommunication. And, others pointed out that if a chief deacon could be so impious would the next chief deacon elect be as noisy and unfaithful. There was only a small group that critiqued the execution in general that execution in itself was not always the answer. Each of these factions of thoughts still resided in their own houses or in small public places. There was no denying that any outright malevolence would lead to calamity. Still, people were anxious. They had asked Knoth to appoint more deacons.

 

Though Lucas was favoured Knoth has chosen him to be a temporary chief deacon and deacon by his own right. People celebrated that choice well enough. There were some who noticed that Knoth was not appointing Vincent Hawthorne as a deacon, though he had all the necessary qualifications. When this matter was pressed, Knoth looked annoyed and stated he would think about it. That had been months ago. Still, the deacon elects needed to be managed soon. The congregation and town was growing larger and they needed some other authorities besides Knoth and a chief deacon. There had calls for a small select police. Knoth had already taken to it that there would a small band of people responsible for getting rid of or hurting undesirable conduct and those would be called the “butchers.” Lucas said that there should be some interrogation group as well to help the butchers with their work. Marta had seen Paul look at them as though this would be his ticket out of his misery. Marta had already a public appointment as The Sentinel. Her mother had looked questionably to her father. Marta knew Vincent didn’t completely like it. He had gone and asked Knoth why he had made such a decision without their consent.  Vincent was the one who finally made the Provisions group, which Jude was the head now and one day his son Simeon would become head. Knoth, always jealous of Vincent, was angry he didn’t think of this first. Of course, Lucas and Vincent also thought of a group trained in first aid and medications but that was put on a hold for now.

 

Marta was looking that Val was taking her through Central Town Square. They climbed up the steep path upwards. Marta looked at the houses she passed. Some people said “hello” or “good evening” to them. It was getting darker around twilight. School day had been over hours before. In the distance, when Marta was going up she could see the school building and school yard. She saw June Bishop come out to feed the chickens of her chicken coup who she took great pride and care of and go back inside. Marta knew that Bishop lived in the schoolhouse upstairs where she had a table and nice furnishings. Bishop would come to grow fond of Marta during her end of days in school and sometimes after school day she would help Marta to help her clean up more as the children would have to clean more or less their own things but not everyone did it (well boys mostly) as immaculately as they were supposed to. After that part was over, she would lead Marta up to her own lodgings and show her, her collection of books. Some of the books could be branded as ‘illegal’ but June Bishop, who had also been a teacher in the world outside, had kept them. When Marta became The Sentinel, she didn’t bust everyone for every single detail. Her own penitent and her religiosity which Blake found her in happened much later and even then, she knew she had imperfect faith. She had allowed a lot of things to still slip by, surprising many a cultist. She just was more complex than people were willing to give her credit for.

 

They passed Mad ol’ Maggie’s house. Maggie was an old woman who seemed to be always in prayer in front of a picture of Papa Knoth. Though Maggie wasn’t necessarily that old yet she had streaks of white on her hair. Her house was partly attached to a barn that was public and her kitchen was downstairs where Maggie was found to mostly either cooking or praying to the picture of Knoth. Blake would meet her one day in such a prayer and then she would attack him only to be kicked down and then she just would be quiet and trembling. Blake would be sorry for hurting her and by that time Maggie would be old. Maggie’s husband had died during the way from Albuquerque to Arizona. She had sons who also died on the way due to untreated fevers. Her last name was Bland and Helen had joked that the way people ignored her she had become her namesake. People would go into Maggie’s dilapidated house, even by their standards, to access the barn. Usually, she pretended not to see anyone. But she saw Marta and Val when she walked in as she had gotten up from her prayers to cook her dinner. She smiled at them and called their respected names as The Sentinel and future chief deacon. And, then went about frying corn, meats and vegetable all together in a broth which was a deep soup of a meal.

 

Marta and Val had regarded her respectfully as well as they started climbing the barn stairs. This was all Val’s direction so Marta just followed. They reached the generator room and that is when Val stopped.

 

“Don’t tell me you want to switch on the power and go up the hill to the other side of the town.” Marta asked, as the Central Square was big enough to have sections to house all its residences, there had been a long hill where the opposite side was with more houses, if one kept going up one could easily reach the school, though aside transporting children who lived down below to school and for just transport or shifting goods, the elevator was rarely used, as people could use alternative routes to walk there unless they were in a hurry. The power generator was not always on unless there was a large need for it. They did conserve some of their electricity as they didn’t want parts to rust for wear and tear.

 

“No, this is fine.” Val motions and they went inside the room, “I think this is a very good and private place to talk. If people ask anything we can always say we came here to switch the power on and we can leave.”

 

Marta looked at them for a while, then nodded, “Alright, that makes sense,” then cocked her head, “Why such elaborate preparations then, _boy_?”

 

“Don’t tell me you think I am completely like a boy too.” Val looked unhappy and they sighed.

 

Marta was a bit confused at this, “Well, _aren’t_ you?”

 

“I don’t know.” Val looked distressed, “I thought I could talk to you about it.”

 

Marta looked more confused, “ _Me_?”

 

“Yes, you.” Val smiled, “People make fun of you; they do because of your height, so you would know how it feels. Some of them make fun of me too.” Val looked away, as if deep in thought, “They say I am a boy-girl and really mean things at times. I sometimes can silence them by saying I am a boy. And, as Knoth stated it. They have to agree. However, I don’t always agree, that I am _merely_ a _boy_.” Then looking straight at Marta, “It just doesn’t feel right for me. It never has.”

 

“Are you telling me?” Marta started carefully, “You wish to be _only_ a _girl_?”

 

“No.” Val answered, “I am not _fully_ a _girl_ either.” Val looks quietly, “I feel I am both. And, I wish someone. Someone with a big heart and kind heart,”  They looked at Marta, “Someone who knows what it’s like to be different and looks different like you.”

 

Marta didn’t know if she should be alarmed or honoured, “Why have you started feeling this way? Are there any reasons?”

 

“Well, when they told me I was only a _girl_. I didn’t and couldn’t accept it. Yet, when they started telling me I was a _boy_. That alone would not help either. I am intersex right. That word. So, I am both. I don’t feel different than girls and boys. I just feel I am _both_ and even though Papa Knoth says I am a boy I feel I cannot and will not get the girl out away either.” She looked tenderly at Marta, “I don’t wish to say this in confession. I say this in confidence to you.”

 

Marta didn’t know what to say. Should she be honoured that the future chief deacon was telling her their feelings?  “So, I am The Sentinel, do you feel secure telling this?”

 

“Yes. Because you have more power than the butchers and you can do a lot more. If I tell you this secret feeling I have. I feel. I feel you will understand and not strike me down and then I feel I can be safe. Someone important, The Sentinel, knows my secret feelings. Knows that it is wrong. That I can feel like this.” Val sobbed a bit, “Please don’t push me away. Try to understand it’s hard. I have copy gospels now, learn night and day. It gets tiring but my parents tell me it’s an honour. And, I will do it to make them happy and because I want to be there for people. But, I hope someone is going to be there for me. Someone who can understand that difference is not bad always. I know I am young. Even now, after talking to you, after dinner, I have lessons with Miss Bishop. It is pretty tiring but I want someone to understand. I just can’t be just a boy or a girl. I need to keep both of you. You do understand, don’t you?”

 

And, strangely, Marta did understand. It was like how her mother was a person struggling to fit into Temple Gate. Even her own struggles. They were always trying to be better people but keep some of what they felt and relied on around. She couldn’t really deny that to Val. It must have taken so much courage and strength to come here and tell this to her. Val was only seven years old. But they were struggling through a lot. Marta’s empathy shone. She couldn’t abandon Val. She was The Sentinel. She was witness-judge-executioner and she thought that also meant something aside from killing.

 

“Of course, Val.” She smiled and nodded, “I understand your secret feeling and you should be happy and allowed to cherish it.”

 

Val smiled.

 

Then she rushed up towards Marta and hugged her, “Oh Marty! I knew you would get it!”

 

“Marty?” So, another nickname.

 

Val looked at her endearingly, “I will go to lessons now. But I feel today I can study more better than usual. Thank You, Marta.”

 

And, with that Val left.

 

The moon was coming out. Night had shaded upon layers as they had speaking. Marta took out a match rubbed it against wood and the ignition she put on her incense to make her keep burning.

 

Time for patrol before going for dinner and starting again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rosemary had asked, “What was so different about killing the Clarences? Knoth had done this before hadn’t he, when we were back at the ranch? It was one of the reasons the police were able to find us so quickly and incriminate us. Knoth had killed a few men if not families. And, that was not so different.”

 

“But, Rosemary. Those men were not necessarily good. They were also accused of well having done some wrong. One or two tried leaving, who were killed but you said it yourself they were not necessarily from families who were loyal and good. This really is a problem Rosemary. I think I understand the Clarences. It does take a toll on you, living in Temple Gate. I can understand if they wanted to leave; I just wished Knoth had tried talking to them.” Vincent urgently explained.

 

“Are they really that different Vincent? I mean yes, they were accused of wrongdoing. And, perhaps, some of them were you know in the wrong as thieves or something else. But, wanting to leave. Vincent, is that too much of a crime? I mean, shouldn’t religion be more widespread. And, what about missionary-work? I though Christianity had missionary work…” Rosemary trembled, Vincent couldn’t discern if it was fear or anger or both, “I mean, the more I stay here I feel we are not following Christianity. Not even anything Abrahamic, or even religion. There is something really vile and dreadful here in Temple Gate. Don’t you feel it, Vincent? The air around us? It buzzes at times, as though it is constantly enveloped with flies or something. Don’t you find that awkward? We can’t turn on the television; it becomes static. The static sometimes interferes Knoth’s own gospel readings. Some people say they hear voices when Knoth is speaking, as though he is possessed. This really frightens me. I feel all of these signs are precedent to something; but nothing holy.” Rosemary uttered those words, not knowing an adult Val Ordish will also someday say those words in a similar way.

 

Vincent was quiet.

 

“Vincent?”

 

“Making our Marta The Sentinel.” Vincent looked livid, “That’s like telling our daughter to punish and/or kill people. It doesn’t make sense! Should Marta be doing something like that?!”

 

“If Marta doesn’t do it someone else will.” Rosemary chipped in, “This is only about our daughter you know,” she stressed, “This is about the town who doesn’t trust its neighbours, who feel anyone and everyone can become well, a non-believer, or a heretic.”

 

Vincent sighed again, “What are we really going to do?” He looked exhausted, “We are in this too deep.”

 

“You are the one who brought us here.” Rosemary spoke quietly, “You said life would be better here…”

 

“I know.” Vincent couldn’t meet her gaze, for shame maybe, or maybe for anger at himself or both, “I didn’t know, I couldn’t have known, that Knoth would change so much.”

 

“There is something really bad here…” Rosemary hugged herself, “Those apparitions…” she whispered carefully, “You see them, right? They don’t feel like punishment; they feel like an _experiment_. It’s almost like doing drugs in a bar. I don’t know why, but I can’t call it holy. It just feels too wrong to me.” She shivered.

 

Vincent may have felt it too. There was an urgency in his eyes; he went and embraced Rosemary. They were like that. Embracing each other. “I am sorry, Rosemary…” Vincent sobbed, “I didn’t know what we were getting into. I should have known. Of all my education, of all my talents, what happened?” he was full-fledged crying now, “I followed a man out to a desert without any real reassurance. I know we heard the voices too but we couldn’t always discern what they were saying.”

 

“I don’t think it’s God.” Rosemary stroked his hair, “I think, it’s _something_ else…”

 

Vincent looked at her panicky, “What do you mean?”

 

“I don’t know.” Rosemary looked taxed too, “Something else, I don’t know.”

 

“Do you think it’s demons?” Vincent asked.

 

“I don’t know, could be.” Rosemary stared at her husband.

 

“It can’t be demons.” Marta who had been listening came in, “Why does everyone doubt Knoth?” she looked ready to cry, “He doesn’t seem completely like a bad person.” Marta was sobbing now, “I mean, perhaps we should all ask him what and why he is doing things, right?” Marta went on, “Surely, he can have a reason, right?”

 

“Oh, so you are now an eavesdropper too!” Her father sounded livid, “So _Sentinel_ ,” forcing, mocking, “Why don’t you tattletale on your parents? Why don’t you?”

 

“Vincent!” Rosemary warned, “What are you doing?! Stop it! It’s not her fault!”

 

“I hate you Daddy!” Marta raged and they looked stunned. She was usually such a calm person, “You were always mean to Mommy! Telling me she is a dumb person and just cared about her looks! You don’t really know anything about us, do you?! You think everyone is stupid! Why are you mean?!”

 

With that Marta ran out hearing Rosemary and Vincent calling her

 

She knew where she was supposed to go.

 

She didn’t think anywhere else mattered.

 

* * *

 

 

She had gone home to have dinner. She didn’t expect an altercation with her parents. She was weary. And frustrated. And hungry. She went to Knoth’s home. She thought she could take refuge with the Modern Ezekiel. What she didn’t expect is that to see screaming there as well.

 

“You whore! You should have told me this is too hot!”

 

She saw a pan with meat thrown out and Mary run out of the house screaming. She took only a glance at Marta and decided to still scramble. Marta walked in to see a fawning Lisa Feather trying to help Knoth, who looked slumped and angry, “You stupid whore, have no shame! Leave!”

 

“Why? When we fuck, you aren’t complaining! You whore!” Lisa actually told that to Sullivan Knoth. When her fawning ended.

 

Knoth slapped her and Lisa slapped him back. They actually got into a tussle. And, Marta realised this was what an extreme lover’s tiff looked like with Lisa, an eighteen-year-old, getting the upper hand, pretty much kicking Knoth on the shins and stuff. Marta once or twice should she intervene? Knoth was howling as Lisa also started pulling his hair and giving him another slap.

 

That is when Marta thought she should intervene. She deflty and with little effort, picked up Lisa high — and then slammed her on the floor of the house eliciting from a cry like a banshee.

 

Knoth who had covered his face looked up to see The Sentinel. “Oh, Thank God, Praise Marta!” he proclaimed as he tried to get up. Lisa looked out of breath and she was horribly coughing. She looked fearfully at Marta while massaging her bones, which would have been broken if Marta had applied more force.

 

“Leave.” Marta commanded, with a scowl on her face.

 

Lisa got up in some minutes and limped as Marta told her to leave in a rough voice more times and as she got out, Marta helped Knoth to get up. Then she started tidying the kitchen. The pot of discarded meat was a tad bit burnt fowl. Looked like a wild bird. She wondered if Paul brought this with Laird and Nick who were expert huntsmen. Knoth continued on with his dinner. She ate some pie, looked like lemon pie, but before that he ate some meat of lamb and some water.

 

“The house feels hot, Papa.” Marta signalled, and she opened a window. The cool evening air came in and Knoth gave a murmur of satisfaction.

 

“God, Bless you, Sentinel.” He stressed and Marta was happy. She was teased so much during her life. She loved being productive and appreciated. She wished her father did that more too. Rosemary had dedicated a lot of her life to them. Her mother’s efforts would not be easily forgotten by her. Her mind would etch it like a commandant.

 

Marta was perceptive enough to know that she shouldn’t ask what was going on with Lisa Feather. So, she said another honest thing, “May I eat with you Papa Knoth?”

 

Knoth looked at her, a bit questioningly, but then with a shrug, “Sure.”

 

Marta ate some rice with lamn and finished off with corn and pie. She had been really hungry.

 

“Is there anything you wanted to talk about, Marta?” Knoth was freshening up and Marta was eating pie.

 

“I needed to talk to you Papa Knoth.”

 

“Very well, what did you wish to talk about?”

 

Marta finished up quickly and freshen up as well. They sat in Knoth’s living room. Knoth had a larger house than most people. His furnishings were also a bit better and his china was more intact. On the wall, there was an emblem, bronzed statuette with pictures of an eagle, bull, man and a leopard. There was a similar bust-like figures in the chapel that was further up the hill. It was made actually by raw materials in the years they were building Temple Gate by the iron forgers Kent and Brewer. They also ran an ironworks down a bit further from Central Town Square.

 

“I…” Marta was going to start but Knoth seemed to have other plans first.

 

“Please, put some tea on.” He asked, cordially enough, “There was some rare Chamomile flowers that Bailey girl brought in.” Marta knew he was referencing Helen, “She may have a whore’s name, but she isn’t a bad apple…I have to admit, she seems more fastidious and intelligent that the one I fathered.”

 

Marta didn’t know how to respond to that so she assiduously went and looked at the Chamomile. She went and removed the leaves and the flower petals, she carefully chopped off the stems and stalk. Then she boiled the water and put the contents of leaves and flowers in. She put it in a nice china kettle that Knoth seemed to have. While the water brewed on for ten minutes, she heard Knoth call out, “Prepare a cup for yourself as well.”

 

She then used a strainer to drain the leaves and petals and brought the tea out, “Here you go Papa Knoth.” She poured him the tea and herself one cup as well.

 

“So, Marta…” They drank from a bit in nice, large china cups, “What did you wish to ask?”

 

“Papa Knoth…” Marta looked genuinely caring and interested, “Please, before I start I wish to apologise if my line of questioning may seem aggressive. But I have been having some doubts.”

 

“Doubts are the sign of the faithless.” Papa Knoth said something that seemed completely rehearsed, “We should not have them.”

 

“Is it really a sign of the faithless to have doubts?” Marta felt a strength in her rise up, “Rather, I don’t think the faithless always question anything. They are concrete in their faithlessness.”

 

Knoth seemed to only stare at her. Marta thought what he was thinking, before she could open her mouth, he actually stopped her, “I suppose those are wise words. What do you want to know sweet angel?”

 

Marta sighed, “Papa Knoth…why did you call the Clarences over for lunch and have them killed in a ghastly way?” she could see Knoth look troubled, “I mean, I know they may have been doing the wrong of leaving but are you sure, it was wise to kill them like that? You are the Modern Ezekiel. I mean you have standards right. It just felt like this Aesop fable my Mother once told me of a fox who had called a rabbit to eat. The rabbit saw the table arranged for two but there was no food and the fox was looking at him questionably. The food the fox had in mind was obviously the rabbit. I mean it is a tale of showing slyness but not in a good way. And, I don’t think Clarences were the Enemy so if you could kill them couldn’t you have killed them publicly like you did Albert Lane, our last chief deacon.”

 

“Everyone seems to be after me on that account!” Knoth slammed the china cup thus breaking it and Marta raised her arm as the debris scattered here and there, “I mean I am the Modern Ezekiel, Goddammit! I am not God! God told me to do that so I did! God told me to get rid of them by just inviting them somewhere, so I did! I thought why not lunch! They were persistent!” Looking at Marta, “You are The Sentinel Marta! You should understand how important it is to keep Temple gate safe! If we don’t do this people will act as bad as they do in the world outside!”

 

Marta stayed quiet as Knoth kept on shaking and then sat down, “Papa Knoth…didn’t you ask God if an invitation was the right way to go about it?”

 

“I had my doubts, alright…” Knoth finally revealed, “I am not always secure Marta. God tells me to keep my trap shut if I ask too many questions. Also, God doesn’t always talk to me.”

 

“I didn’t know.” Marta seemed to sympathised him.

 

“I don’t know if it wise to tell this to the congregation. So, please don’t tell everyone.” Knoth looked pretty sad.

 

“Has God always talked this way with you?” Marta would of course ask. She didn’t know then this ‘god’ was no ‘god’ but possible just some Murkoff employees.

 

“Well, not always. But sometimes, nowadays, God gets angry with me if I ask too many questions.” Knoth tried to get a drink of tea and realised he had broken the cup, Marta was kind enough to get him another one and poured more tea and gave it to him, “It’s like God gets moody. I suppose that is what he meant when he stated  he will stop finding perfection in his own perfection.”

 

“I suppose so.” All of this sounded confusing for Marta, “But shouldn’t God welcome queries and confessions?”

 

“I suppose not.” Knoth drank his tea and looked out his window, he looked at the clouds and the sky, the clouds seemed to have covered a moon that was out, then he brought his attention back to Marta, “I suppose that is what is also meant by the uncircumcised heart of Cain that has polluted the line of Adam. Cain questioned. So, Cain is corrupted.”

 

“But Papa Knoth Cain killed Abel. Cain is the first murderer. I don’t think it is questioning, I think it is murder that God abhorred.” Looking at her pickaxe, surveying it in her hands, “Should we kill people? Should _I_ have to kill people, eventually? That would be murder, would it not?”

 

Knoth scanned her, “We must persevere even with righteous violence. Look,” he looked intently at her, “When I asked God the question of murder he didn’t answer. God just told me to do righteous violence. If you pay attention to the voices underneath the radio that goes around you will probably hear the same intentions as well.”

 

“What about television?” Marta brought up a question Helen had asked all those years ago, “What does God say about that?”

 

“I asked God about the television…” Knoth looked helpless, “But God told me to shut-up and just pray and listen to the radio.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Right.”

 

There was a silence between them for a while.

 

“Your faith is imperfect.”

 

Marta looked up, “ _What_?”

 

“Your faith may be becoming imperfect. Or, is already imperfect. You should become The Sentinel you are supposed to be Marta. The Clarences may defy God but I know you will not.” Knoth got up, “It’s getting late, dear,’ he affectionately rubbed her left shoulder, “You should finish your tea and get on home. Thank You, for the tea,” Then thinking, “Before you leave, can you —“

 

“I will, _Papa_ Knoth.” Marta looked a bit angry and Knoth had to take a step back. But then she sighed, “Don’t worry, I will clean up the cup.”

 

And, she did and stepped outside.

 

 

* * *

 

“So, what did he say?” Asher had been walking outside. A bit secretively.

 

“Have you been roaming around at night, often?” Marta didn’t know if she should smile or be surprised. She seemingly managed both, which made Asher chuckle. She was happy seeing him. After all, the part about ‘imperfect faith’ did somewhat bruise her. She didn’t completely agree on it. She thought it was somewhat callous of Knoth to say that to her just for questioning him. However, he did seem to not say it so maliciously.

 

“I don’t think I am the only one.” Asher smiles, “You know Helen looks at cacti at night, their flowers.” Marta nods, she knew that, there wasn’t much she didn’t know about Helen. And, to think about it, she knew a lot about Asher too. It seems Asher and Helen were not really a mystery to her. “But.” Asher looks at the moon, “It’s a good, that I got out.”

 

“And, why is that?” Marta and he had started walking. It felt nice to walk with him at night. It felt nice to always walk with him. She didn’t always know why. And, then she had to remind herself she had feelings for him. Strong feelings. Like she had for Helen. It was strange. To be in love with both of them. But as she had promised nothing to anyone and they hadn’t promised anything to her, she seemed it was alright. They all had a certain level of freedom.

 

“Because it is good to see you under moonlight. It’s like the moon becomes a bouquet of flowers arranged in a certain way with you around, your petals and the moon are alike, aren’t they?” Asher slowly smiled and Marta had to say, that was one of the best compliments she had ever gotten.

 

“But you asked me something.” They were circling past the chapel and they saw some people around talking. Some looked at them with certain suspicion. Others looked sullen anyway. And, some seem to smile as if they understood.

 

“Yeah, what did _Papa_ Knoth, say…” Asher stressed on that word and Marta gave him a look but they both smiled at each other. “Did he break _something_? At one point, I could have sworn I heard china break.”

 

Marta didn’t think it was appropriate to actually say everything; it was not always good to say other people’s secrets or reveal their vulnerability, “I think, he didn’t completely know what he was doing. But it seems God demanded that behaviour so he went with it. And, yeah, he was frustrated so he broke a china cup. Nothing to worry about, I cleaned it up with a broom.” And, she definitely omitted the part about ‘imperfect faith.’

 

“Did God _really_ want the Clarences to be killed liked that?” Asher looked suspect. “He shouldn’t just break stuff because he is frustrated. I mean, you don’t see a mall around here. He can’t replace china so easily. Unless, Archibald Kent and Eleazar Brewer has started that line of business as well and I didn’t know about it.”

 

“Well, that’s what he said, Asher. About the china, I guess we can all get a bit angry and I think some people did ask about the Clarences and he was getting upset. Though, I guess he should have handled it better.” Marta looked honestly at him, “I didn’t question him beyond it.” Marta looked a bit vulnerable herself, “It seemed,” she then looked a bit frustrated, “That there seemed nothing more to tell. Though, I wonder if there _was_.”

 

“So, Papa Knoth didn’t say anything useful aside God wanting that?” Asher pressed lightly, “I didn’t know God had such a sick sense of humour. Calling people over to dinner to stab them and all that.”

 

“Well, the methods seem to be his.” Marta spoke that, “I didn’t like it. I told him that.”

 

“You actually did.” Asher looked impressed.

 

“Well, yes. As Modern Ezekiel, he should have acted responsibly.” Marta confessed, “But he told me he will try better later.”

 

“Do you believe him?” Asher asked, softly.

 

“I don’t know…” Marta confessed, “It feels a bit over our heads.” And, she could see the shadow following them, “It feels like there is a lot we don’t know and maybe he doesn’t know and I can’t completely fault him on it. I did tell him to try better. Especially, with that stupid shadow around.”

 

“So, you see _him_ , _too_.” Asher was contemplative and looked glum.

 

“Well, is the shadow really a _him_ or an _it_?” Marta questioned, the shadow seemed to chuckle hearing itself being talked about them.

 

“Hey you shut up and leave us alone.” Asher called out into the darkness, a piece of it almost intangibly moved and Marta and Asher both knew it was the shadow, who seemed to go off elsewhere for now, “I have trouble sleeping sometimes because of that bastard.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” Marta then told Asher how she could always see him or it.

 

“Wow, no wonder night patrol became your thing.” Asher marvelled, then asked, “Do you think Helen can see him too?”

 

“I asked her once and she seemed to sometimes see him too. Though the shadow doesn’t bother her as much as he bothers us.” Marta revealed.

 

“Well,” Asher looked annoyed, “Isn’t that something.”

 

Then he stopped, Marta stopped too, “What’s the matter, Asher?”

 

“Don’t…”

 

“Don’t?”

 

“Don’t lose all of your doubts, Marta.” Asher stepped up to her, “You are also made of them, they make you irresistibly you.” And, he looked up to Marta’s taller frame and face and they kissed.

 

Marta put the small of her hand on his back as he put arms around her neck and shoulders. Slowly, she licked his tongue and Asher opened his mouth and Marta and Asher moved with tongues. It felt truly wonderful. Kissing like that under the moon.

 

When the kiss was over. Asher almost blushed, “Your kiss is like air to me.”

 

“Really?” Marta brushed his hair affectionately, cupped his face and kissed him again, with intensity, “Then have more air. And, let me taste yours as well.”

 

“Can you taste air?” Asher looked playfully at her.

 

“If the air is in a house,” she trails his chest, his throat, then his lips, and his mouth, “Then the air becomes one with the house.”

 

“Yeah.” Asher kissed her fingers, “I suppose it does.”

 

“You smell of a flower.” Marta surmised.

 

“I been rubbing the Heliotrope on me.” Asher kissed her throat, “Do I smell nice to you, darling Patsy.” Another nickname.

 

“I suppose you do.” She couldn’t help it. Something primal in her brought out her tongue and licked Asher’s throat. Marking him. This act of both possession and possessiveness did not seem to make Asher nervous. Rather, it seemed to make him happy. He nibbled on her ear a bit like a rabbit.

 

Reciprocal exchange.

 

Asher and Marta kept on walking. They were surprised on the way by Helen, who joined them and listened to what Marta had to say about Knoth, “So, Knoth admits it may have been in bad taste. That’s good.” Helen answers, “Though Asher is right, Marta. Don’t let him get too much under your skin.” Helen and Asher wouldn’t know how much Marta would later be force to let him pitch his tent there.

 

“Well, I guess, I am gonna go the other way.” Asher says, “I decided to do some work with Thad. We are going get some corn to his house, you know his mama been a bit sick, so I decided to help out with the household chores when I can.”

 

“You like household chores more than us Asher.” Helen stated, seemed more playful than teasing. Marta had to admit, being male in Temple Gate, Asher seemed conscious about domestic chores.

 

“Well, it takes coordination and skill to be a cook and cleaner.” Asher seriously stated, “You can’t be a good cook or cleaner without effort and intelligence.” Then he looked warmly at Marta, “Goodbye Marta.” And, affectionately at Helen with a platonic glint, “Goodbye Helen.” Then he was off.

 

“What is this about Thad’s mother being ill?” Marta asked as Helen and she kept walking.

 

“Oh, sometimes, Thad’s mother get these sores and gets ill. No one really knows why.” Helen explained, “I think your father also tried to treat her with mine. They looked a bit grave when they see her.” Then with secrecy, “I think they suspect something they aren’t completely telling us.”

 

“And, they like to blame Knoth for all of those things.” Marta did not sound too happy, thinking about how her father didn’t always behave well with her mom, how she was still a bit angry with him, then she wasn’t completely satisfied with Knoth, but it felt if Knoth made her mad so did others.

 

“Well, Knoth is our leader.” Helen argued, “It is natural to make him responsible for some things, don’t you think?”

 

They kept on walking, “I suppose so.” Marta had to admit that.

 

Helen touched her hand and both she and Helen were holding hands now. They were walking like that for a while, “You smell of Heliotrope.” Helen stopped and Marta stopped with her, and she smelled her neck, her mouth, “Did you kiss Asher?” She asked, playfully, romantically.

 

“Yes…he rubs it on him at times…” Marta blushed.

 

“Well, I guess I got to take his example…” Helen kissed Marta, she started sucking on her earlobe and lips, Marta had to let out a moan, the urgency in her kiss was making her feel giddy, and she also caught Helen’s lips, their mouths opened like oysters and tongues pearled within each other. A delicate feast. Marta wondered if kissing Helen and Asher at the same time would become a tradition. Though, she wondered who she would choose. She actually liked monogamy. “Though,” after their kisses became pecks, like birds gnawing on each other’s’ feathers,  “I wanna do that with the Lupine.”

 

Marta smiled.

 

She went home walking hand in hand with Helen.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I don't think I can finish this fic in 8 chapters =( But I guess this allows me to flesh out some stuff more =) I hope everyone is enjoying so far. Please read and review.

**Author's Note:**

> I am planing on making this around 4 chapters. I think the chapters may be long. I know it can become longer than 4 but I plan this to be a short story rather than a long one. I hope you are liking it. I really wanted to talk about Marta and Val more; so this is my version of their origin story. Enjoy your stay at Temple Gate's origins.
> 
> Edit: This definitely will not be 4 chapters. I still have much left to write about this. I estimate it may be now 8-10 chapters or even a bit more. I guess I got caught up in some of the details =P Though, I hope the information and the way I am writing the story would in the end be an enjoyable read.


End file.
